


Disguises and Dreams (2.0)

by Remyroo17



Series: Disguises and Dreams [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione - Freeform, F/F, Other, Slow Burn, Student/Teacher, Teacher Bellatrix AU, blood/gore, grey bellatrix, grey hermione, starts off at the beginning of 6th year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remyroo17/pseuds/Remyroo17
Summary: Bellatrix has been under a curse almost her entire life. Now she has finally awoken from it, she wants more from life, to turn it around, and to find happiness again.Hermione has been having strange dreams, and now she must come to terms not only with the darkness dwelling within her, but also the fact that she's not as interested in Ron (or boys) as she'd been believing.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Lestrange
Series: Disguises and Dreams [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640668
Comments: 78
Kudos: 402





	1. The Dark Within

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of the rewrite of an old fic of mine, Disguises and Dreams. I've been working on this first chapter for quite some time, and I finally feel like it's ready to share. I've written nothing more than what you read here, not yet at least, and I'd be very grateful for feedback, especially from anyone who has read the original.  
> This one is probably going to be drawn out much longer, I feel I've improved greatly as a writer in the ten years since D&D 1.0, therefore this 2k chapter covers something that was much, much shorter in the original. This will probably take a slightly different course than the original.
> 
> Please read and review, as always constructive criticism is welcome as long as you're nice about it.

Three sharp knocks sounded at the front door. Minerva McGonagall had been turning off the living room lights before heading to bed; she wasn’t expecting visitors.

She drew her wand; who could possibly be on her doorstep on a night like this? 

The rain lashed down outside, thunder clapped… it was a tension-breaking storm after another hot summer.

Minerva made her way over slowly, but her visitor did not knock again.

The older witch carefully pulled the door open, but there was no one out there.

She checked the surroundings, and there was only a piece of parchment lodged in the door’s letterbox.

Minerva snatched it up and shut her door quickly, locking it behind her. She unravelled it and took in the damp, hastily scrawled message.

_‘Meet me in the The Armed Crow tonight at 11pm. I am desperate for your help.’_

She turned the parchment over but there was nothing else, no sender, no hint of who had left this for her.

Despite the Muggle-ish delivery, she knew this mysterious person was a witch or wizard; The Armed Crow was Minerva’s most local wizarding pub, in the next town over.

She looked up at the clock hanging on her living room wall, it was already 10.30pm. Minerva replaced her wand in her sleeve and moved into her bedroom. She dug through her bedside drawers and found a small drawstring purse she kept for emergencies, for moments just like this.

It contained several small phials, some of explosives to distract enemies in battle, others to help her regain stamina if she needed. Minerva was nothing if not prepared should this be some sort of ambush.

A blonde woman around Minerva’s age stepped out of the en-suite bathroom. “What are you doing?” She asked, seeing the Professor taking off her nightie and changing back into robes. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve received a message,” she explained. “I’m to be at the Armed Crow by eleven.”

“A message from who?” her wife asked.

Minerva gave her a slightly worried look. “I don’t know. It said they needed my help,” she fastened a waterproof cloak over her shoulders. The blonde looked ready to argue. “I know, I know it could be a trap,” she said, “But it might not be. The handwriting, it looked familiar. I can’t place who.”

The other woman followed Minerva to the front door, and took hold of her hand as she opened it. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Come home to me.”

“Always,” she promised. She gave her wife a loving kiss and stepped out into the night, disapparating.

Just a fraction of a second later, she landed in the apparition point in the nearby wizarding town of Edgeville.

Minerva started to make her way through the dimly lit streets, towards the only building with any sign of life. 

It was a Friday night, after all, and it was no surprise the pub would be busy. Perhaps that was what her mysterious summoner was counting on - so much activity that they wouldn’t be noticed.

She stepped inside, immediately appreciating the warmth of the establishment.

Minerva headed to the bar and ordered a double firewhiskey. She looked around as she was being served, scanning for familiar faces - Dumbledore!

Her friend and boss was sitting in a quiet corner, nursing a large Butterbeer.

Once she’d paid for her drink she took a sip and made her way over. “Albus,” she said, sitting down next to him. “Did you leave that note?”

He frowned at her. “I was quite ready to ask you the same, Minerva. It appears we’ve _both_ been summoned.”

Minerva kept looking around the quaint little pub, keeping an eye out for whoever their stranger would be.

“Ygraine didn’t want me to come.”

“Understandable,” the Headmaster nodded. “A mysterious summons in the dead of night, your wife must be worried sick.”

“I shan’t think she’ll sleep tonight until I’m home.”

Just then a small, cloaked figure slunk into the bar. In their efforts to appear so nonchalant, it only drew the Professors'’ attention to them more.

“This must be them,” Albus muttered, averting his gaze and taking a sip of his drink. 

Minerva followed suit. “I fear I should have gone for something weaker.”

The Headmaster laughed slightly.

The cloaked person made their way to the bar where they ordered a glass of water. They then made their way over to the professors, a cloaking charm shielding the top half of their face underneath their hood.

“Headmaster… Professor,” came a small, feminine voice. “Thank you for coming, I would be eternally grateful for your assistance.”

Minerva knew that voice, from many years ago.

Albus, it seemed, didn’t.

“What do you want, Mrs Lestrange?” Minerva asked bluntly. Albus looked at her in surprise, then back at their summoner.

She took a seat, and waved her wand in front of her face to remove the cloaking charm - but she didn’t look like the Bellatrix Lestrange they had come to know in recent years.

Of course, her skin was pale and face thin from Azkaban, but there was something in her eyes that seemed completely different.

“I seek asylum, to put it bluntly.”

Minerva scoffed. “Asylum? From whom?”

“The Dark Lord,” she whispered.

The Professor let out a sharp laugh. “Likely story.”

Dumbledore held out a hand toward Minerva. “We must hear her, Minerva.”

Bellatrix nodded at her old Headmaster in thanks. From inside her cloak, she pulled out a small vial of clear liquid and pulled out the stopper. She held it out toward Albus, and Minerva’s hand went straight to her wand. “Veritaserum, Professor. To ensure my honesty.”

Albus took a small sniff, then nodded toward Minerva, prompting her to do the same. They both agreed the potion was as it seemed, and Bellatrix threw it back before launching at once into her tale of woe.

“During my time in Azkaban, the Dementors bore away at my mind. I had been suffering from a… a mind fog, if you will, since graduating Hogwarts, the same day I was made to marry.”

Albus nodded, urging her to continue.

“They ground away at this fog, allowing me to see the truth of my life. It disgusts me,” she said bluntly. “After the Dark Lord freed us from Azkaban, I naturally went first to the Lestrange Manor. I hadn’t bathed for, what, twelve? Fourteen years? My priority was cleanliness. There, I of course found my husband, Rodolphus.”

Minerva was listening intently, but didn’t look as though she believed a word coming out of the Dark Witch’s mouth - despite the truth-telling potion she’d consumed.

“He drew his wand on me as soon as he saw me, and I heard him mutter _imperio_. And there it was again, the mind fog, the strange, airy, mad feeling I had become so accustomed to so many years ago. I knew then that this was what had happened, that he had cursed me since our wedding day to do his and the Dark Lord’s bidding.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief. "I'm sure," she muttered. 

Bellatrix looked over at her. "I'm sorry, professor, if you find my plight to be insincere. Would you perhaps have preferred if I'd asked one of you to bring your own veritaserum?" 

McGonagall pursed her lips for a moment. "I believe the potion was legitimate. But I also believe that you are a witch of exceptional skill. It would not surprise me if you could have concocted a potion that merely appears to be veritaserum."

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Minerva, if need be, we will provide her with another potion and we can do this all over again. For now, however, we will simply listen and help in whatever way we can."

Bellatrix looked at him, grateful as always for his wisdom. "Thank you again, Professor."

She took a sip of her water and continued on. 

"I fought harder than I'd ever fought anything, I pushed back against his magic as much as was possible. His wand sparked and he dropped it. My mind fog cleared once again." She hesitated. 

"I'm here to turn myself over to the side of the good," she said softly, staring at the damp coaster under her glass. "I know things about the Dark Lord you could only dream of knowing, Professors. I know things that can bring him to an end. Please do not ask me to state them here, it is incredibly sensitive information."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, but McGonagall had noticed a small hole in the story. 

"What happened to Rodolphus?" she asked, then took another swig of her drink. 

Bellatrix hesitated, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times. The potion made her want to answer straight away, but her mind did not want her to confess. 

"Bellatrix," Minerva said quietly. "What happened?" 

The dark witch took a breath. "I killed him," she admitted. "I took out the years of anger I had kept inside me, the rage Azkaban instilled in me. I didn't even use my magic in him. I killed him with my bare hands for the years of control he inflicted on me."

Now she glanced up, looking briefly into each of their eyes from under her hood. 

"While I seek the side of good, I seek no forgiveness for this, as I have no regrets for his death." 

Minerva, who had first hand experience of being controlled by someone else, finally relented. She moved her hand from her glass and held it open palmed towards Bellatrix.

"I believe you," she muttered. 

Bellatrix hesitantly took her hand, pursing her lips in a small smile. Minerva watched her eyes, seeing the effects of the potion starting to slip away. 

"What did you do with his body?” She asked.

Bellatrix, after so many years of committing murder and torturing people, couldn’t help the slight smile. “It’s still there. He rots in our bedroom, on our bed. He’s been there for nearly a whole pregnancy,” she said hollowly, staring off into space, past the two teachers.

“And where, exactly, does the Dark Lord think he is?”

Bellatrix snapped back to reality. The Veritaserum had worn off now, her emotions were now able to come through in her (still honest) replies. “The Dark Lord knows of his demise. He came to check on the house, as he’d sent Rodolphus there to meet me, to control me again,” she said bitterly. “I was watching. I’ve been staying in a decrepit muggle house nearby - the Lestrange mansion is still my home. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to move back in, but the Dark Lord returns regularly. I expect he’s waiting for me, he knows how much I loved that house.” 

Albus and Minerva regarded her for a few moments, then shared a look. 

Dumbledore was the first to speak. “It’s clear to me, Bellatrix, that while you truly wish to join the light side, I fear you retain your bloodlust. You’ve been corrupted by the Dark so deeply…” Bellatrix looked down at the table, almost in shame.

“I feel it would be unwise for you to remain unsupervised. There’s nowhere better for you to be than at Hogwarts.” 

Both Bellatrix and Minerva looked up at him in surprise. 

“Tonight,” he continued, “You will return with me to the school while I make preparations for the new school year. Do you have everything with you that you need?” He asked, and she nodded enthusiastically. 

“Professor, I can’t thank you enough, I’m so grateful.”

He lifted his glass of Butterbeer and threw the rest of it back, then stood. “We’ll apparate together, but I’ll require your wand.”

Minerva and Bellatrix both stood as the dark witch pulled her wand from her sleeve and handed it to the old man.

“Minerva, I’ll see you in a few days for the start of term. Give Ygraine my best.”

~

On the other side of the country, an altogether different meeting was taking place - Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in Ron’s room, Hermione carefully turning a floating piece of the Daily Prophet with her wand, watching with curiosity as it burned.

“You look like you’re doing that with your mind, Hermione,” Harry joked, prodding her. She jumped, waking from her deep focus. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Got a bit lost in my thoughts there.”

“What you thinkin’ about?” Ron asked.

She pursed her lips in thought for a moment. 

“I had this dream, last week. Only, it didn’t feel like a dream, it felt like I was watching something real, and I was involved in the scene, only I was someone different.” Harry sat up a little straighter. “There was this guy, an older man, I recognised him. I think he was a death eater. And we were in a bedroom.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Do we actually want to hear this?”

Hermione ignored him. “I walked in, and I felt my blood start to boil with anger. I’d never been so… _irate_ . And, I started to draw my wand, only he beat me to it, and he cast the Imperius Curse on me. And I felt this, like, fog descend on me. And something clicked, like I realised I’d been Imperiused all my life. And…” she hesitated, and gulped. “I broke the fog, and I killed him - no, I didn’t kill him,” she let out a breath of a laugh. “I slaughtered him. Without magic. It was _awful_.”

Harry reached out and placed his hand on hers. “It wasn’t really you, Hermione. It was just a dream - or maybe a vision, we can’t be sure - but it wasn’t you. I know you’d never do that.”

She nodded. “I know. But… It’s like I can still feel what it felt like in the dream. To kill someone. And this guy, whoever he was, he deserved it. And I didn’t hate it. It feels like I killed someone, Harry, and I don’t hate myself for it.”


	2. The Schoolteacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie to you, this chapter is mostly filler.

“Have you chosen a name for yourself, then?” Albus asked, regarding Bellatrix over the top of his glasses from his side of the desk between them.

She nodded, black curls bouncing. “Victoria L’Etarie,” she said. 

He smiled slightly and nodded. “L’Etarie,” he repeated. “After your Defence professor when you were here. We could probably pass you off as her daughter, if you like,” the Headmaster suggested.

Bellatrix nodded, “I was thinking granddaughter, sir.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You want to appear, what would that make you... Mid twenties?" 

She nodded again. "I lost so much of my life. I want to feel young again."

Albus regarded her for a moment. "How would you feel about covering Professor Slughorn's double potions lessons on Fridays?" he finally asked. 

Bellatrix's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you sure?" 

He nodded. "You received Outstanding in every Potions and Defence end of year exam in all years when you attended. In my opinion, you're more than qualified to cover them _both_. Horace says he’ll struggle with the doubles, you see, especially toward the end of the week. We can have you on standby should Severus need a hand."

Bellatrix stammered for a moment.

"I'd be honoured, Headmaster. If it can repay you for taking me in like this, then absolutely." She grinned. "I'll speak to Horace about his syllabus and then draw up some lesson plans." 

Before she could excuse herself, he spoke again. "I'd also like you to act as a teaching assistant, whenever needed. Your schedule will be quite full." 

Bellatrix regarded him for a moment. "I presume this is so you can keep an eye on me at all times, ensure I'm always with a Professor?"

"Precisely. A necessary measure, I'm sure you understand.” She nodded at him. “I myself will be sitting in on your Potions lessons. Obviously we can't let you use your own wand, Minerva will be accompanying you to Diagon Alley this afternoon to procure you a new one. If you go and meet her now you can spend some time transfiguring yourself to be unrecognisable."

Bellatrix took this as her dismissal. She stood and, out of old habits, curtsied toward the Headmaster. He nodded to her with a small smile and she excused herself out of the office. 

It didn’t take her long to make her way to McGonagall’s classroom. She stepped inside and shut the door behind herself.

“Good afternoon, Bellatrix,” she said, keeping her eyes on the parchment in front of her and finishing her sentence.

Shivers went down the dark witch’s spine. “Ooh,” she said. “Deja Vecu. Just like that time I charmed all the hair on Etta Rosier’s head to suck back into her scalp for calling me a slapper.”

If this was Bellatrix’s attempt at nonchalant humour, it wasn’t going very well with Mcgonagall. She received a _look_ over the woman’s glasses as she put her quill into a stand and rolled up the parchment. 

Bellatrix cleared her throat awkwardly. “Dumbledore sent me down to be transfigured, and said we’re to go to Diagon Alley to get me a new wand,” she explained.

“I’m aware.” Minerva said, taking out her wand as she stood up. “What kind of look are we going for then?” she asked, like this was every day for her - as though she was a hairdresser Bella hadn’t used before.

“You remember Professor L’Etarie?” the teacher nodded. “We’ve decided I’m her granddaughter.”

“Very well,” Minerva said, walking around the desk. She brandished her wand in Bellatrix’s face and saw a look of apprehension cross it - quickly followed by a look of extreme pain.

The darker haired witch almost keeled over, grasping her arm with her sleeve between hand and skin, preventing contact.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “He’s calling.”

“Persevere through the pain, Bellatrix,” Minerva prompted. “We’ll try and arrange something, a way to make him stop calling,” she reassured, hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.

“What if He comes to me?” she asked, breathing heavily.

Minerva shook her head. “He can’t, the school is protected. He cannot find you here, Bellatrix.”

Five hundred and fifty miles away, in Ottery St Catchpole, Harry Potter awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and panting heavily.

Ron, it seemed, was already awake. He was sat up in his own bed, nursing a tea and flicking through _Quidditch Through The Ages_. He jumped and spilled a little as Harry woke.

“Careful mate,” he said, “Nearly got it on my book.”

Harry forgot his dream for a moment. “Alright, calm down, Hermione,” he joked.

Ron gestured to the makeshift bedside table next to Harry’s camp bed - a stack of large hardback books with a pillowcase draped over them to protect them - where there was another steaming mug. “Mum brought you one too. Mind, you look drenched, mate, not sure a hot drink’ll do you any good. You alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “He’s just angry. I think one of His Death Eaters has gone missing. He was trying to call one of them with the Dark Mark but they didn’t come. From what he was saying, seems like they’ve defected, not sure who though.” 

He reached for his mug of tea after wiping his forehead on his shirt. “Think this is just what I need to be honest.”

The door opened and Ron jumped and spilled tea again. “Hermione! My book!” he whined. “I’m tryna come up with some new plays for this year!” he whined.

She rolled her eyes, drew her wand and muttered _scourgify_ in his direction. 

“Aren’t you two up yet? It’s nearly nine, we need to get ready, we’re leaving for Diagon Alley soon. Well, _you_ guys need to get ready.”

Ron shook his head. “How _do_ you get up so early?”

Hermione shrugged. “Habit, isn’t it? I spend the school year getting up at seven so I can use the bathrooms when no one else is around. I suppose my body clock is used to it.”

“You okay, Harry?” she asked, spotting the sheen of sweat on his face.

~

“Good evening, students. I trust you have all had excellent summers, and are eager to begin your studies this year. Now, there’s been a slight change to our teachers this year,” Dumbledore called out to the Great Hall. “First, Professor Snape will be taking over Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.”

The Slytherin students broke out into cheers and clapping before Dumbledore raised a hand to quieten them. 

“Potions will instead be taken by Professor Slughorn, an old friend of mine who has taught here before.”

Slughorn stood and gave a small wave to the students, who applauded for him kindly, stopping when he sat back down.

“And finally, Miss Victoria L’Etarie will be assisting in some classes, and also teaching a few lessons herself. I trust you’ll all give her a very warm welcome.”

The schoolteacher formerly known as Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange stood.

Hermione found she couldn’t take her eyes off of Miss L’Etarie. The woman was absolutely beautiful. She was quite short, had black curls that reached her shoulders - though some of her hair was tied up with a deep purple ribbon. Her robes were a mix of black and the deep purple of the ribbon in her hair, and Hermione noted that they fit her perfectly.

Hermione shook her head slightly. She could appreciate another woman’s beauty but she was bordering on leering. 

She joined in with the spatter of clapping before it ended, then cleared her throat and reached for her cutlery as Miss L’Etarie sat back down and Dumbledore called for the feast to begin.

“Does anyone else think she looks kind of familiar?” Harry asked. Hermione frowned. 

“Not really, no.”

Later that night, Hermione drifted off to sleep with the image of her new teacher drifting through her mind.

_“You’re home early,” Hermione’s voice called out as she heard the front door of their cottage click shut._

_“I brought a friend,” the other woman said as she entered the kitchen, seeing Hermione standing at the stove stirring something. Hermione turned to see her wife enter carrying a toddler with bright blue hair._

_She felt herself grin as the little boy reached out for her immediately, and she lifted him from her partner with ease. He giggled happily._

_“Oh, have you come to see Auntie Mione and Auntie Bella? This is a surprise!”_

_Her wife leaned in and they shared a quick kiss. The other woman swept her dark hair up and quickly tied it, taking over from Hermione’s stirring._

_“Mm, my favourite.” She looked back at Hermione playing with the toddler and sighed, content._


	3. Bloodborne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has another interesting dream, one that stirs up new feelings inside her.

_She stalked slowly towards the kitchen, wand tucked away and favourite dagger hidden up her sleeve. As she entered, she saw the dark-haired man pacing the length of the kitchen table._

_“Where the fuck have you been?!” He all but growled when he noticed her. “The Dark Lord has tortured every one of us for yours and Rod’s whereabouts! Even his favourite spy got the Cruciatus!”_

_She stayed quiet, smirking at him._

_He shook his head and scoffed. “Rod always was insatiable. Let me guess, you two snuck away for a fuck-fest? You left him up in bed?”_

_“Sort of,” she said, advancing on him. She sidled up close to him. “Care to join us?” She purred. “You know, it was always you I was interested in, Rabastan.”_

_His cheeks flushed red as she placed her hands on his chest and toyed with the buttons._

_“You haven’t told our Lord where you’ve come, have you?” She whispered, right into his ear. She slipped her tongue out and flicked it against his lobe. “I’d hate for him to interrupt us.”_

_She pulled back and watched as a lecherous grin spread across his face and he shook his head. “Haven’t said a word.”_

_She smiled. “Good.” She looked down at his chest, lips parted a little, and ran the tip of her tongue along the edges of her teeth. She heard a sharp intake of breath and ripped at his shirt, popping the buttons off and exposing his chest._

_She turned them and pushed him. “Get on the table,” she commanded, voice strong and calm, given what she was about to do._

_Rabastan scrambled up onto the sturdy oak and laid back as she followed, straddling him._

_“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she grinned, baring her teeth._

_Rabastan’s smile faltered._

_She let the dagger slip from her sleeve and into her hand. She waited for the understanding to flit across his eyes, then plunged it with great force into his chest._

_He screamed like no man had ever screamed before, and she couldn’t help herself but to grin wider._

_She pulled the knife towards herself with both hands, dragging it through his ribcage and into his abdomen. Blood was pouring out of him and getting on her clothes, but she didn’t care, she was gleeful in his anguish, savouring every moment until at last his cries died out and the last glimmer of life left his eyes._

Hermione awoke and immediately scrambled out of her bed. She rushed to the bin in the corner of the room and emptied the contents of her stomach into it. Luckily, the other occupants of the dorm room seemed too sound asleep to notice.

She grabbed hold of the bin and crept out of the room, spitting into it as she made her way down to the largest window in the common room.

She pushed it open and gratefully drank in the cold night air. She could think of nothing nicer than a glass of water brimming with ice, but couldn’t bear to move from the window. A thought occurred to her.

“Dobby?” she asked quietly.

A small _crack_ sounded. The little house elf appeared next to her. “Oh dear,” he muttered. “How can I help, miss?”

The dream was all Hermione could think about for the rest of the day. She barely paid attention in any of her lessons, which was completely unlike her. She didn’t even have an answer when Flitwick called on her in Charms.

The only thoughts going through her head were how real it had seemed, the heavy stench of death and rot in the manor house that had been overwhelming, and the added smell of fresh blood.

Not to mention the fact that the sight of all that blood had kind of turned her on in her dream.

She found herself staring at a plate filled with her favourite, spaghetti bolognese, at dinner, without knowing how it got there. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head to try and wake herself out of it.

Ginny reached over and took her hand. “You okay?” She asked. Hermione looked up at her dumbly. “You were completely checked out, I thought getting you some food would help.” She gestured at Hermione’s dish.

The older girl sighed heavily, grateful for her closest female friend. “I’m just not all here today,” she admitted. “Something on my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Hermione scoffed. “Maybe one day.” She tucked into her dinner, courtesy of Ginny, and tried her hardest not to think about her dream - and what it could mean. But locking it away in her thoughts proved futile.

Because she’d liked it, hadn’t she? She’d _enjoyed_ killing that man. She’d _revelled_ in his pain and anguish, cackled at his misfortune.

‘No,’ she thought, ‘Shut up and eat your food.’

She looked up at the head table, just watching the teachers curiously, in one of those moments where they didn’t know someone was looking.

Dumbledore was picking food from his beard and eating it.

Snape was sweating like he’d eaten a pepper too hot for him, and Miss L’Etarie - oh.

Hermione watched as the assistant slowly licked a dribble of red pasta sauce from her middle finger with the tip of her tongue. 

A whine tried to pull itself from her throat and she tried to cover it with clearing her throat as soon as she realised.

Later in the common room, Hermione was attempting to start one of the essays they’d been set that day, when Harry approached, holding out a sheet of parchment. 

She took it curiously. “What’s this?”

He smiled a little at her. “I noticed you were a little distracted today, so I thought you might need my notes, seeing as I didn’t see you touch your quill.

She shook her head. “Harry, thank you, I really appreciate this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first real chapter in quite some time. I started to lose the motivation towards the end there, that's why it just tapers off.


	4. The Potions Mistress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix gets her first taste at teaching.
> 
> Feel like I should note that in my head, Bellatrix with her Glamour on looks an awful lot like Katie McGrath a la Morgana in Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am shocked at myself that I've managed to write another chapter within days.
> 
> I've made some continuity changes to the previous chapters in order to account for future events. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was the end of the second week of September. Slughorn had managed his first Friday double lesson (a small disappointment for Hermione, who’d been looking forward to it), but quickly decided he would rather have two hours off, and agreed that Bellatrix could have the rest of the year’s worth.

She moved some notes around on the desk for the third time in as many minutes, then checked the method she’d written up on the blackboard for the fourth time, then shuffled the papers again and let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, do calm down,” McGonagall said from her seat at the back of the room.”They’re only sixth years, they don’t bite.”

Bellatrix chuckled a little. “It’s more about my first foray into teaching. I grew up in these halls and dreamed of this.” She shook her head. “Don’t forget who I am, I can take a few sixteen year olds. But did my first proper lesson have to be Friday the 13th?”

Minerva laughed, too. “You’re going to do just fine. Ready to begin?”

At the younger woman’s nod, Minerva stood and opened the door to the hallway, where the sixth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had gathered nicely. They filed in and took their seats.

Bellatrix thought she felt eyes on her, and had to take a moment to check her reflection in a nearby hourglass, worried she’d forgotten her Glamour. The face of the young ‘Miss L’etarie’ looked back at her, she was safely hidden.

She picked up her wand and tapped three times on the desk with it. The lively chatter quickly diminished to quiet.

“First things first, I’m Miss L’etarie.” she began. “You can call me Professor if you like, but you don’t have to. ‘Miss’ will do just fine.

“Now, can anyone tell me the properties of the Draught For Dreamless Sleep?”

Hermione’s hand shot up, along with a few others.

“Miss Brown, is it? Lavender?”

The girl gave Hermione a haughty look. “It lets the drinker sleep deeply without having dreams.” she declared proudly.

Miss L’etarie stayed quiet, waiting for the girl to continue. Hermione stifled a laugh.

“Yes,” she finally said. “That much is discernible from the name, but I asked for the  _ properties _ .”

Hermione’s hand went back up with a smirk.

“Miss Granger?”

“The Draught For Dreamless Sleep is a thin, purple potion that smells strongly of lavender and tastes like vanilla. The strength and amount consumed both attribute to the length and depth of the effects.”

“Excellent, thank you. Five points to you. You should all know by now that the properties of a potion are the colour, smell, taste, texture, and also whether how much you have changes the effectiveness. Take the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. It doesn’t matter how much you have, it’s going to kill you the moment it passes your lips.”

Hermione looked over at Lavender, who was practically snarling in her direction. Hermione scribbled a couple of notes and then looked back up at the Professor. She really was stunning.

“Who can tell me what kind of cauldron you need in order to brew Dreamless Sleep?” Hermione’s hand went up, but their teacher had other ideas. “Mr Macmillan?”

Ernie looked up in surprise at being called on. “Bronze?”

She shook her head. “Too impure, anyone else? Don’t be shy.”

“Gold!” Lavender practically shouted.

“Too soft. Come on, it’s in the book in front of you none of you have opened.” 

Hermione cleared her throat and raised her hand a little as she spoke, not used to doing so out of turn. “Silver.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger, five more points.”

Hermione noted that Professor L’etarie looked genuinely relieved that someone had known the answer.

“Dreamless Sleep is a very sensitive potion. Silver cauldrons are pure, strong, and plain, so you’ll need one to brew it. They’re rather rare, but luckily for you all, I’ve procured enough for you to work in groups of five.”

She waved her wand with a flourish, and gleaming silver cauldrons appeared on some of the workbenches.

“I trust you to split yourselves up.” she said, and as soon as she had, father had broken out. She raised her voice a little. “Professor McGonagall and I will be around the room should you need us, this is of course an advanced potion.”

She stood and watched them shuffle around for a moment. “Instructions are on the board. Whichever group is successful earns thirty points for their house.” She spotted a couple of hands go up in a group that was two Gryffindors and three Hufflepuffs. “Six points per person if it’s you lot, that seems fair.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione naturally teamed up. Seamus and Dean were already at their table, so they joined too.

Harry cracked open his battered copy of Advanced Potion Making and started flicking through it for the right page.

Hermione pursed her lips as he lay it out for the table to see. “I don’t think we should use that, Harry, she said the instructions were on the board.”

“It served me pretty well last week, Hermione.” He shrugged. “Besides, I think Seamus would quite like to get a pass on a potion for once,” he joked. Seamus punctuated the remark by immediately dropping his wand (whilst trying to spin it like a drumstick) and letting off a bang and some sparks.

“I don’t trust it.” she admitted. “I’m going to join Neville’s group, I want no part of that book in my work.” she huffed, and picked up her things. She carried them over to Neville’s workbench, where he sat with Parvati, Lavender, and two others. After a quick word with Lavender, Hermione took her seat and the blonde all but ran to join Ron.

Neville had never looked so delighted to see Hermione.

They got to work on their potion, Hermione keeping a subtle eye on her two best friends and seeing what they were doing differently.

She became momentarily distracted when Professor L’etarie came by and told them they were doing great, and asked if they had any questions. She smelled like cinnamon.

Hermione came back to herself just as the teacher was about to leave.

“Actually, Professor, I was just wondering how come you put it on the board instead of asking us to follow the books?” she asked, loud enough for Harry to hear.

“That’s a very good question, Hermione,” 

_ ‘I like the way she says my name… No, focus!’ _

“The recipe in your books for this particular potion has since been updated quite recently. Since some of you got your books from a shop this year, whilst others got them from the store cupboard, I thought it wise to write the newest one up. That way, everyone is following the same one.”

She smiled politely at the student, but it widened when Hermione grinned back at her. “Thank you,” Hermione said.

Professor L’etarie nodded, touched her arm gently, and then walked off to another table.

_ ‘I should not be so pleased about her touching my bloody  _ arm _ , for goodness sake. Merlin, I barely know her and I’m smitten with my teacher!’ _

“Alright then, you should all be ready to wave your wands and leave it to simmer for half an hour.” Miss L’etarie called out. ”Only one of you needs to do it.”

She watched from the front as each group chose their best spell-caster to do the honours.

“While your potions are brewing, I’d like essays from each of you on Dreamless Sleep addiction and the side effects. Let’s say, 500 words?”

She heard some groans and saw a few students roll their eyes as they got parchment out of their bags. She wandered off to stand with Minerva at the back of the room, who was making notes on her teaching.

“Let’s have a peek,” she muttered, leaning over to see the clipboard. McGonagall angled it away.

“They’ll all be available at the end of your training, Victoria. But I will say - It’s a glowing one. You’re quite the natural.”

Bellatrix smiled up at her old Professor, grateful for the compliment.

“If your training is successful,” Minerva started, “what subject would you most like to teach?”

Bellatrix didn’t hesitate. “Potions.”

“So sure?”

“Well, it was always my favourite. I didn’t get an O+ in it at NEWTs for nothing.”

McGonagall stifled a laugh. “We haven’t given an O+ in any subject since you left. Miss Granger might be quite promising, though.”

“So I’ve heard. The latest Brightest, isn’t she?”

“Quite. Like Miss Evans, and yourself before.” 

A little while later, it was time for everyone to hand in a vial of their group’s potion, marked with the name of their spell-caster.

“I will test these over the coming week, and award the House points in our next lesson a week today.” She informed the class. “For now, I know it’s a little early, but I’m going to be nice and let you all go.”

Immediately, students began shoving their things in their bags in order to be first out the door.

“Enjoy your weekend!”

Hermione had been The slowest at packing away her things, and when she looked up, only Harry and Professor L’etarie were left in the room.

“Lavender dragged Ron off somewhere, I said I’d wait for you and we could all go to the lake, enjoy the late summer sun.” he said, slinging his rucksack onto one shoulder.

“I’ll meet you there,” said Hermione, “just want to ask a few questions.”

“What’s up, Granger," Victoria asked once Harry had left the room. "Not a fan of leaving class early?" 

Hermione smiled at joke, watching the beautiful woman neatly stack their essays and slide them into a folder. 

"I was just curious as to how you'll be testing the potions. You wouldn't use them all on yourself, surely? That seems awfully irresponsible, drinking a bunch of teenager's potions."

Bellatrix picked up the rack of vials and put them in a cupboard near the desk. 

"There are lots of tests I can run to examine the success of the brewing process, most of which involve brewing other potions and putting droplets into the vials. Once I've determined which one is the best, that's the one I'll test on myself - with Madam Pomfrey present, of course."

"And do Potions Masters usually consume potions we've made?" the young woman asked, holding the door open for her teacher as they left the classroom together. 

Bellatrix found herself compelled by the brunette by her side, so inquisitive, much like herself at sixteen. 

"It's only necessary with certain potions. With most you can discern their quality from the tests, but as you're doing your NEWTs, there are many students who want to go into Healing and will need to be able to brew these things going forwards."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Thanks so much for talking to me," she smiled. "I've got to go meet my friends, they're probably planning a surprise party for my birthday next week as we speak."

Bellatrix offered her a warm smile in return. "Enjoy your weekend, Hermione."


	5. The Poison Apple

“I just still feel so young inside,” Bellatrix said as McGonagall helped her with her Glamour. “I look in the mirror whenever this thing fades and hate what I see.

Minerva shook her head. “Oh, nonsense, you’re a beautiful woman.”

Bellatrix - now masked as Victoria - scoffed. “I know that,” she chuckled, “But you’re nearly ninety and don’t look a day over sixty. We’re witches. I shouldn’t actually  _ look _ my age yet. I feel twenty and look fifty, it’s not right.”

McGonagall put her wand away, finished with the spell. “Perhaps it was the extreme usage of dark magic, or the twenty-year imperius you were under. Either way, I’ll keep an eye on  _ Transfiguration Today _ and  _ Witch Weekly _ for the latest in de-aging tricks.” The older professor promised.

“You’re here late,” Miss L’etarie remarked quietly as she approached Hermione.

“Just doing some research,” Hermione replied at a normal volume. “Madam Pince is long gone.” She explained at the raised eyebrow. “No need to whisper.”

Miss L’etarie nodded her understanding and headed for the shelves right behind Hermione. The teenager found herself turning her head a little and was faced with the teacher’s backside.

And what a nice one it was.

She looked fantastic in a dark grey corset and darker still skirt.

“Unusual to stay up so late on a Thursday, surely?” Miss L’etarie asked.

Hermione stammered a little as she forced herself to take her attention more upwards. “Well, Ginny and that lot are throwing me a ‘surprise’ birthday party in the common room tomorrow after dinner. If I stay up now, take a nap tomorrow after classes, I’ll be able to stay up a bit later to indulge them.”

As she’d explained, Miss L’etarie had gathered a few books and carried them around to the opposite side of the small desk.

“That’s very kind of you, forcing yourself to enjoy your own birthday party for the sake of your friends.”

Hermione just shrugged.

“When is your birthday, then?” She opened the book and lay it open on the table, leaning over it. Ringlets of her black curly hair dangled around her face from her updo, and Hermione couldn’t help but look at the way her bosom threatened to spill from her corset.

“Today, actually.”

The teacher looked up, lips parted a little, and Hermione bit her lip.

“Well, many happy returns. Sixteen?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

Hermione waved her off. “It’s a whole thing.”

“Sounds like a secret, love me one of those.” she grinned.

The younger witch thought for a moment. “You’ll probably hear it from McGonagall anyway…

“I was given a Time Turner, third year. Used it so much, I may as well be seventeen.”

Her teacher looked almost jealous.

“You used it that much?”

“I took every class. Every single one. One night there were four different versions of me studying in this library.”

There was a comfortable silence between them for a minute as the older woman flicked through a book.

“Miss L’etarie-”

“Please, call me Victoria.” she interrupted.

Hermione smiled softly. “Victoria. I was hoping I could ask a favour? A birthday present, if you will.”

Victoria looked confused. Hermione thought it was cute.

“Who’s potion was better, mine or Harry’s?”

“Now now, Granger-”

“Hermione.”

“ _ Hermione _ . You’ll find out the winner of the House Points tomorrow afternoon with everyone else.”

“I don’t care about the points. I just need to know if I beat Harry.”

Bellatrix thought for a moment, seeing the student’s eyes drop down to her cleavage once or twice.

“Put it this way.  _ He _ didn’t win.”

Hermione grinned, the brightest smile Bellatrix had ever seen. She felt a rush of pride at having brought it about.

“Now, you really must get to the dormitory before it’s past curfew and I have to escort you to your room.”

Hermione packed up her things and blushed a little as they shared a couple of soft smiles in goodbye.

Bellatrix was no idiot. She knew when someone fancied her - hell, half the lads she saw in a day studied her chest more than their books.

But Hermione’s affection seemed softer, more genuine. 

It was soon the next day and, after spending all day in McGonagall’s transfiguration lessons, time for Bellatrix’s Friday double potions with the sixth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

Only this time, she would be supervised by Severus.

“How are things?” she asked him as he entered, her tone implying another meaning to her question. 

"Exhausting. Excruciating. I didn't realise I'd be on the receiving end of so much pain because of you."

"Too late for you to drop out?" 

He grimaced at her, jealous that she was free from the Dark Lord's clutches. "A little." 

They heard the clock tower in the courtyard chime for one o'clock, and Snape opened the door for the students. A tall boy from Ravenclaw, who she didn't recognise, came up to the teachers desk she was stood beside. 

He placed a rosy red apple on it, smiled at her, and then went and took his seat. 

"Oh, thank you very much." she smiled at him politely. She thought she saw Hermione roll her eyes. "I'm sure you're all eager to hear who won the thirty House points," she said, now to the whole class. "My congratulations to Jacob, Ronan, Parvati, Neville and Hermione. Miss Granger, you also had the best short essay, so that's an extra five for you." 

Hermione grinned at the teacher from her spot at the workbench, next to Neville. 

"Today, you're going to brew me a Laughing Potion. Tell me what it does. Ah, no hands! Just say it!" 

"Makes you laugh!" "Induces laughter!" and "Gives you the giggles, miss!" were just three of the answers she heard. 

Hermione liked the way Miss L'etarie taught, the way she was able to engage the whole class - there wasn't a single student who wasn't paying attention. 

"Five points to each house. Now tell me some side effects!" 

"Extreme melancholy!" "Hysterical mania!" "You tickle people!" 

"Five more each. What are the ingredients?" 

People started to flick through their books, and everyone seemed to find the right page at the same time, because there came a chorus of everyone shouting out different ingredients. Miss L'etarie winced a little at the volume but nodded.

"Five more. Mr Long bottom-" 

Neville was so taken aback at being called on that he jumped a little. 

"What do we use the laughing potion for?" she asked him gently. 

He stuttered and stammered. Hermione watched as he gestured to his textbook and Miss L'etarie subtly nodded. He looked down at it for a moment. 

"It's an effective defence ageist a banshee?" 

Miss L'etarie nodded at him. "Good job."

Neville turned to Hermione and grinned. He got an answer right in Potions! She smiled back at him, then watched  _ Victoria _ wave her wand at the blackboard. 

"Method on the board. You know what to do."

Two hours positively flew by. Hermione admitted to herself that the potion probably wasn't the best she'd ever done, on account of the fact that Victoria kept appearing at their table or wandering past and she'd either get distracted talking to her or simply catch a whiff of whatever  _ delightful _ perfume she wore and lose herself for a few moments. 

Once students had started to file out of the classroom (Snape first out of the door), Miss L'etarie spoke up. 

"Hermione, walk with me?" 

She hung back to wait for the teacher and saw her pick up the apple. 

The last student out ahead of them was the one who'd given their teacher the apple. 

Miss L'etarie crouched down for a moment and when she stood back up she suddenly had a knife in her hand. 

"Wha- Where did that come from?" Hermione asked. 

"Life lesson, Hermione. Especially with a war coming. You always need a knife in reach."

The boy from earlier was walking ahead of them and kept glancing back at them as they strolled along the hallway. 

Victoria cut off a slice and ate it. "Mm, crisp," she muttered. She cut off another slice and held it out to Hermione on the knife's edge. 

Hermione took it, getting a closer look at the knife as she did so. 

It was eerily similar to the one from her last dream. She only caught a look at it for a moment before Miss L'etarie pulled it back to her for another slice. 

Once they had both swallowed their first pieces, a strange feeling seemed to wash over them both. They slowed to a halt next to an empty classroom, and slowly turned to look at each other. 

Both of them were breathing deeply, pupils blown wide. They looked each other over for a moment, then Hermione slowly reached out and hooked her fingers into the laces of the corset. She started walking backwards, and pulled Victoria with her into the empty classroom. 

Victoria pushed the door closed behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please r&r! I love getting comments. Very motivational


	6. The Gilded Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione knows.

Before she knew it, Bellatrix had lifted Hermione up onto a nearby table. The younger witch’s knees parted, allowing her to stand between them with Hermione’s skirt bunching up.

She had her arms wrapped around the girl’s waist as they kissed almost feverishly, like lovers who had been denied each other’s touch for too long.

Hermione’s hands were everywhere they could reach; running through her hair, across her cheeks, down her chest, tugging at her corset.

Bellatrix finally tore her lips from Hermione’s and began kissing and nipping down her jaw and throat until she reached her neck.

She bit and sucked until Hermione let out a throaty moan, loud enough that neither of them heard the sound of footprints coming towards the door.

They didn’t stop once the door opened, though - Bellatrix pulled back a little and gently kissed the love bite she’d left. 

“Miss Granger!” Snape called out. “Miss L’etarie!”

No response. They just carried on, paying him no mind.

He spotted the partially eaten apple and dropped knife on the floor, picked the apple up, and gave it a sniff. After a moment’s thought, he raised his wand at them.

“Aguamenti!”

* * *

Hermione and Miss L’etarie were sitting on next-door beds in the hospital wing, avoiding eye contact with each other, while Madam Pomfrey busied herself with finding a tonic that would get any trace of love potion out of their systems.

“What happened, Severus?” Dumbledore asked as he entered the room.

“Colin O’Grady laced an apple with a lust potion.” Snape informed him simply, sounding bored. “He gifted it to Miss L’etarie. No doubt his intention was the primary function of the potion: insatiable lust for the person who administered it. Sadly for him, Miss L’etarie chose to share the apple with Miss Granger, triggering it's second function: a shared lust between those who eat it.”

Dumbledore took this information in. “I see. Can you tell me anything else about this potion?”

“Quite a weak brew,” Snape said lazily. “Colin would have been lucky to get a snog from it. It’s effects are amplified when the people involved are already interested in each other, hence why I found these two practically dry humping.”

Hermione looked up at that, finding Victoria was already looking at her, lust still clouding her eyes, gorgeous lips slightly parted. She licked them slowly and Hermione all but swooned.

She gripped the bedsheets. The potion had worn off a little after the unceremonious soaking, but not enough, and she knew she had to be on her best behaviour, lest she cross the gap and make use of the bed.

* * *

Bellatrix had a million thoughts running through her head. First, that she wanted to take Hermione back to her room and deliciously defile her. Second, that she’d not been alert enough around the girl to catch a whiff of the potion, and third, the fact that she was nearly fifty and had just been caught snogging a teenager.

Hermione, of course, was the only person present not aware of her real age.

Likewise, Bellatrix was the only person present who knew that Hermione was now technically seventeen and therefore an adult witch.

Madam Pomfrey came over and handed them both a cup of an ugly green liquid. Bellatrix threw it back like a shot. Immediately, the feeling of lust left her.

She looked over at Hermione, who had also drunk her tonic, and was twiddling her thumbs while staring at her hands and blushing.

“Miss L’etarie,” Dumbledore piped up, “if you wouldn’t mind joining me in my office.”

She nodded obediently, stood, and followed the Headmaster out of the hospital wing.

* * *

Hermione and Snape were avoiding eye contact as the student gathered her things and stood.

Snape cleared his throat as she was about to leave. “Your _friend_ dropped this. See to it that it gets back to her.” 

He held Victoria’s knife out gingerly, and Hermione took it. She slipped it into her bag, muttered a ‘thanks’, and scurried off.

She didn’t stop until she made it safely back to the common room and up to her bed.

Thankfully, no one was around.

Hermione carefully retrieved the knife from her bag. She examined it.

It was the knife from her last dream. The one she had ‘killed’ Rabastan with.

And Miss L’etarie owned it.

Suddenly, _Rabastan_ rang a bell. She hastily wrapped the knife up in a pair of tights she had lying around and tucked it under her pillow, then made her way back down to the common room.

“Ron, Harry,” she asked, appearing at the table they were playing Wizard’s chess on. “Where do i know the name Rabastan from?”

Harry made a thinking face. “Rabastan… Lestrange! Brother of Rodolphus.”

 _Rod_ olphus. Of course. _‘Rod always was insatiable’_ he’d said.

“Rodolphus is married to Bellatrix, isn’t he?”

Harry nodded as Ron’s bishop destroyed his rook. “Why'd you ask?”

“Just doing some research,” she lied. “I’m going to the-”

“Library?” Ron finished for her. She nodded. “Don’t miss dinner. You need to be back up here by seven for- ow!”

Harry had kicked him under the table.

“Something.” He finished meekly.

Hermione nodded and headed out of the common room.

She wasn’t totally sure why she was going to the library, but usually whenever there was a mystery to be solved, it wasn’t the worst place to turn.

She found herself in the yearbook section. 

Hermione stared at them for a while, the cogs in her brain turning over and over until she remembered something she’d overheard in Miss L’etarie’s first potions class.

 _‘Much like Lily, and yourself before,’_ McGonagall had said. But Miss L’etarie didn’t look a day over twenty-five, how could she have been before Lily?

They hadn’t given out an O+ since she’d left school either - that was it! She just had to check the records.

She turned and made her way toward Madam Pince, sitting behind her desk, glasses perched on top of her nose as she watched the room.

“Madam Pince,” she said softly. “I was hoping I could take a look at some previous years’ potions grades?”

“Whatever for, dear?” she asked quietly.

Hermione hesitated. “I’d like to know what records I need to break in my NEWTs next year.” She landed on, pleased with her lie.

“There’s only one record to break for Potions, Miss Granger, and it’s to get an O+.”

Yes, this was what she wanted. 

“Who was the last person to get an O+?”

“Well, it started with Libatius Borage. He corrected a set question and came away with one-hundred-and-one out of one-hundred. After him it was our own Albus Dumbledore-”

Hermione tuned out, willing the woman to hurry up. She went through three more overachieving students and their Potions NEWT scores.

“And most recently-” Yes! “Bellatrix Black back in, oh, ‘62 it would have been. Her practical was the Draught for Dreamless Sleep. It had a lot more side effects back then, and she stood there and fixed the potion, right there in the exam, with her own brew.”

Madam Pince’s voice had become muffled in Hermione’s ears and she compiled all this information in her mind.

“Libatius, of course, refused to acknowledge the new potion for a while. Older copies of his textbook still have the original version in. Are you alright, dear?”

Hermione mentally shook herself back into the conversation. “Yes, fine. Guess I’d better start studying for that Potions NEWT, eh?” she joked. “Thanks for your help, Madam Pince.”

She had no idea how she’d kept her cool.

She waved the librarian goodbye, turned, and left. 

Hermione didn’t know where to go from here. She had to tell someone, obviously, but who? She checked her watch - nearly five thirty. She still had time to tell Dumbledore before getting some dinner, and having a birthday party - though that didn’t seem like it mattered any more.

In the time it had taken her to decide to speak to Dumbledore, she’d made it halfway there already and was passing McGonnagall’s office when Dumbledore exited out of it.

“Sir!” she shouted. “I need to talk to you!”

Miss L’etarie - _‘Bellatrix Lestrange’,_ she thought - exited after him.

“Alone.”

She glanced fearfully at the other witch. The woman’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion at her.

Dumbledore approached her. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Granger, there’s something urgent I must attend to. I’m afraid I won’t be back until tomorrow. We’ll have a chat when I return, hm?” he promised, and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then wandered off.

“Is everything alright, Hermione?” ‘Victoria’ asked. She reached out, placing her hand on her arm.

In a split second, Hermione was reminded of her dreams, of the knife she’d seen and now had in her possession, of the idea that she was perhaps seeing what Bellatrix had actually been doing as it happened, of the fact that the woman with her hand on her arm was literally a Death Eater and murderer and had tortured Neville’s parents into insanity - and that she had to pretend that she didn’t know all of these things, at least until she could speak to Dumbledore about it all.

She smiled softly, “Absolutely fine.” and leaned into the woman’s touch. “Did you get a telling off?”

She was practically flirting. It hadn’t been a conscious decision.

The teacher shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Let me guess, we’re not allowed to pursue anything that could be between us, because you’re a teacher and I’m a student?”

She watched as the older woman - _much_ older, now that she thought about it - swallowed thickly. “Not quite. It’s, well, it’s complicated. But I musn’t keep you from your dinner any longer, you’ll need it if you’re to survive that ‘surprise’ birthday party later.”

She did finger-air-quotes around ‘surprise’. Hermione thought it was cute. Then regretted thinking that.

“Speaking of,” Hermione said, “I have something for you, though I don’t have it with me. You dropped it, when… You know.” She blushed.

“Ah, yes, one ofmy favourites, that one. Did you look at it?” Hermione nodded. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She nodded again. _Bellatrix_ looked her up and down. “Keep it, if you like. My gift to you. You should always carry one, especially in this political climate.”

She offered Hermione a polite smile, and she thought it held the promise of _more_ , of _we’re allowed to see each other if we like_. “I’ll see you Monday, I’m in Ancient Runes.” she said, and brushed her hand gently against Hermione’s as she walked off.

Hermione watched her go, drawn to the sway of her hips as she walked.

 _Fuck_ , she thought. _I still bloody fancy her._


	7. The Prefect's Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione explores her darkness more.  
> She lets Bellatrix know what she knows.

Hermione had spent her entire birthday party lost in her own thoughts, downing Butterbeer after Butterbeer to keep up the pretence of enjoying the night. Despite the relatively low alcohol content, she ended up feeling rather tipsy.

She was sitting on the floor by the fire, back against a sofa, most everyone else gone to bed by now. Ginny was by her side, Harry and Ron playing exploding snap somewhere, a few stragglers milling about.

She had been staring so deeply into the flames that she didn’t notice Ginny had been staring at  _ her _ .

“You’re pouting,” The red headed girl finally said, startling Hermione out of her trance. She looked at Ginny. “Why are you pouting? It’s your birthday.”

Hermione hesitated, then sighed. “You can keep a secret, right, Ginny?”

The redhead nodded. “Always.”

There was a moment of anticipation between them as Hermione decided what to say.

“I think I’m a lesbian.” she finally muttered.

Ginny stared at her for a second.

“Oh. What makes you say that?”

Hermione didn’t hesitate this time. “I fancy the pants off Miss L’etarie.” she admitted.

Ginny scoffed. “Who doesn’t? Even I’ve got a bit of a girl crush on her, she’s stunning.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s not a girl crush, Ginny, trust me. I feel… I don’t know, like we’re connected somehow.” she said, mind going back to her dreams.

Ginny could see Hermione wanted to say something else, so she waited.

“And there’s the fact that I snogged her this afternoon.” She said this so quietly Ginny hadn’t been sure she’d heard her correctly.

“Snogged her?!”

“Shh!”

“Tell me everything!” Ginny whispered eagerly.

Hermione found herself blushing.

“It wasn’t deliberate. Colin in Potions gave her an apple laced with lust potion. We ended up sharing it. Which makes you frantically want to bang the other person on the closest surface.”

The image of the knife that was now safely under her pillow flashed in her mind, and she shifted.

“I ate a bit, she did too, and then I felt this weird feeling wash over me, like there was nothing more I wanted to do than-” she cut herself off. “Then I dragged her into the nearest empty classroom.”

“Then what?” Ginny asked excitedly. She didn’t seem at all fazed by how descriptive Hermione was being - she’d been dying for some good gossip since term started.

Hermione looked at her friend and laughed a little. “She lifted me onto the table. We were snogging. Started to get a bit handsy. I was ready to unlace her corset when Snape walked in.”

“Snape caught you?!” 

Hermione nodded. “But I physically couldn’t stop, I couldn’t take my hands off her. He had to cast aguamenti on us to jerk us out of it,” she finished.

Ginny shook her head, taking it all in and thinking it through.

“Just because a - illegal, by the way - lust potion made you snog her, doesn’t mean you’re gay.”

Hermione let out a breath of a laugh. “How about the fact I’d kill to do it again?”

And she would.

Ginny tilted her head. “Yeah, no, I supposed that does point to gay.”

They laughed together for a moment.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Hermione finally asked.

Ginny’s face, usually a soft pink anyway, darkened. Hermione’s eyes widened.

“No!” She grinned.

Ginny just nodded slowly.

“When?”

“Lots of times,” she admitted. “Me and Luna have… had a  _ thing _ since late last year.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. She was finally enjoying her birthday. “How am I only just finding out about this?”

Ginny shrugged. “You didn’t ask,” she said bluntly. “You and I have never really talked about relationships until now, Hermione. And to be honest, I had assumed you and Ron were going to go for it.”

Hermione made a face. “I know he’s your brother, and he’s one of my best friends, but, y’know, no.” she said. Ginny just laughed again, and then Hermione laughed, and then when they were done they settled into a companionable silence, watching the fire.

Ginny suddenly turned to her. “If snogging Miss L’etarie only happened today, why were you being so weird the other day?”

The prefect took a drink again. She might as well tell Ginny. She felt their relationship had never been closer than in this moment.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” she explained, fiddling with the label on the Butterbeer bottle. “Where I murder people.”

Ginny just listened.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s me, not really, more like I’m seeing through someone. But it… it does feel like me. And,” she hesitated here. “I like having them. I can’t stop thinking about them. About… the look on someone’s face.” She looked up at Ginny. “When they die.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

“What, you like it in the dream?”

Hermione nodded. “And out.”

She paused. 

“And it scares me.”

Ginny just opened her arms, and Hermione immediately fell into them for a hug.

* * *

When Hermione aoke the next morning, an epiphany seemed to occur to her.

If her dreams were, in fact, visions of what Bellatrix had done - which Hermione was certain they were - then that meant that Bellatrix had killed two known, prominent Death Eaters.

What reason did Bellatrix, who was also a famed Death Eater, have for killing two of her supposed comrades? Especially her husband and brother-in-law?

And then there was the added fact that McGonagall knew that Victoria L’etarie was, in fact, Bellatrix Lestrange. She’d said as much, hadn’t she?  _ ‘Like Lily, and yourself before’ _ .

And if McGonagall knew, then, Hermione was sure, Dumbledore did too. And if both of them knew, and she was still here, perhaps here purposefully, then Hermione had to believe that Bellatrix, for whatever reason, had defected from Voldemort’s forces and joined the Order.

She found herself relaxing a little.

Though it still left two questions.

One, did her professors know that Bellatrix had been sneaking off of school grounds to murder Death Eaters?

Two, why did finding out the woman was really in her forties, and was so recently a member of His inner circle that they’d fought at the Ministry just a few months ago, not put Hermione off from wanting to be close to her?

She decided to think on that later. Today was probably one of the last times she could study by the Black Lake and enjoy the late summer sun before they moved deeper into winter.

* * *

It was fairly late on Sunday evening when Hermione entered the Prefects’ bathroom relieved to find no one else there.

She started the water flowing, picking some scents at random that sounded good together. She stripped off and clambered into the hot water as soon as it was half full.

Hermione relaxed into it immediately, sitting comfortable on the bench that lined the entire edge of the pool-sized bathtub.

The taps stopped automatically as the water level just about covered her breasts, leaving Hermione in peaceful silence, naught but the sound of bubbles popping so quietly and frequently it sounded like fizzing.

After relaxing for a few minutes, she decided to swim a couple of lengths, then washed her hair and sat back in her spot.

Her bag was nearby, and she stared at it for a moment.

She’d hidden Bellatrix’s knife in it and elected to carry it everywhere, lest a house elf find it hidden in her sheets.

Without thinking, she dug around inside the bag and retrieved the knife, unwrapped the tights from around it, and got comfortable again.

Hermione let it just rest in her hands, feeling the weight of it and admiring the design.

It was a silver dagger, no longer than a dining knife, with elegant flowing patterns engraved along the face on both sides of the blade.

The handle was soft, supple wood - walnut, if she had to guess - stained black by design. She gripped it, feeling how ergonomic it was, how light and easy to handle, and felt the texture of more swirling patterns against her palm.

She held it up in the light and, stupidly, ran a finger along one of the sharp edges.

“Ow!” She hissed, yanking her finger away and sucking it into her mouth to soothe it.

Then, she saw it: a droplet of her blood on Bellatrix’s dagger, and something came over her. Something urgent and primal she’d never felt before, and she didn’t realise what she was doing until she was doing it. 

She brought the blade to her mouth, sticking her tongue out a little, and then dragged the silver blade over it so, so slowly, collecting the drop of blood on her tongue.

She swallowed, relishing the light taste of her own blood, and let her head fall back at the edge of the bath, eyes closed. Her neatly folded towel acted as a pillow.

God, it was exhilarating to be so close to something so dangerous and, she thought suddenly, something that had been used in a murder.

She lifted her head and looked at the dagger again, now dripping with water from absentmindedly putting her arms down.

This thing had killed someone. Bellatrix, Miss L’etarie,  _ her teacher _ … had used this to snuff a soul from this world. Hermione had watched it happen.

Hermione loved that.

She closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair slowly, letting her mind wander.

The hand holding the knife disappeared back under the water. She thought of dark, black curls, deep brown eyes. 

She gasped when the handle touched her, not realising how badly she had needed this.

She thought of the wild, crazed look in Bellatrix’s eyes when they’d fought in the Ministry. The way she stalked towards Rabastan in that dream, predator and prey.

She thought of the way the woman’s hips swayed when she walked, the undeniable swagger. Of the softness of her hands on Hermione’s skin,  _ Merlin _ , of her red lips and white teeth on Hermione’s throat-

It wasn’t long at all before she unravelled by her own hand, one name leaving her lips in a low, breathy moan:

“ _ Bella… _ ”

* * *

Bellatrix awoke from her slumber, feeling as though the girl had whispered directly into her ear.  _ Merlin, what a good dream _ .

The dark witch couldn’t quite place why she found herself so attracted to Hermione Granger. She was beautiful, of course. But it wasn’t just that. Perhaps it was because she reminded Bellatrix so much of herself at that age, and Bellatrix was nothing if not narcissistic.

No, the girl was beautiful, kind, intelligent, funny… and a damned good kisser.

She stood from the sofa in her quarters, where she’d been napping, getting her rest for the night ahead.

When McGonagall had listened to her plan, she had dismissed it almost immediately as a madwoman’s bloodlust.

It wasn’t until she told her the whole story and reasoning for her plot, the details she’d already laid out, the intricacies, that she had relented.

She could understand her pain and frustration, and had to admit it would benefit the Order and the war effort for members of Voldemort’s inner circle to mysteriously drop dead.

_ ‘Ha’ _ , she thought,  _ ‘mysteriously’ _ . 

Voldemort would know it was her doing.

She stretched. Her back clicked and she groaned. She was getting old.

Bellatrix gathered up five or so random objects from around her quarters, and dumped them on the coffee table.

She pulled out her new wand and transfigured them one by one: left glove, right glove (leather of course), two corks, a long stretch of fishing wire, and a thick sewing needle.

She used the needle to poke a hole through each of the corks, sideways, then carefully threaded the fishing wire through them. She wrapped the excess wire tightly around and around until she had about a foot and a half of the wire between each cork.

She had her weapon for the evening.

* * *

After Hermione had finished bathing, she’d thrown on her clothes and left, red faced and embarrassed about what she’d done.

She felt ashamed of the darkness stirring within her.

She hadn’t been affected by anything like this before this school year.

Perhaps this connection she felt with Bellatrix Lestrange had awoken something in her with their proximity? She folded her arms in annoyance as she walked. There had to be an explanation. She couldn’t just… be like this. Surely. She was part of the Golden Trio. Falling in with Harry had practically destined her to save the world or die trying.

She couldn’t  _ really  _ like the idea of partaking in things as grim and ghastly as murder, of course not. That would be absurd.

But then she thought about what she’d just been up to in the bath, how the fact the knife had killed someone had spurred her on instead of stilled her hand, and she didn’t know any more.

Without having thought about where she was going, she found herself outside the hall that led to the Professors’ private rooms.

Only one of them could help her understand her predicament - the woman she’d been fantasising about just minutes ago.

She decided to brave it, and entered the staff wing. It didn’t take long to find the door that bore the words ‘Madam L’etarie’ on them, and she knocked three times.

After a beat, it finally opened, and Hermione smiled apologetically.

“Miss Granger,” the other woman said softly. “What’s the matter, is something wrong?” She asked, assuming there was no other reason a student would seek her out so close to curfew.

“I was just hoping we could talk.” she said, just as quiet.

She caught the woman’s eyes flick once to her left, then she looked to her right at the clock on the wall. 

“Uh, of course, but I don’t have long.” she muttered.

She opened the door wider for Hermione and led her into the little kitchen area, Hermione’s back to the living room.

She turned on the kettle. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s a personal matter,” Hermione admitted, watching the woman’s hands as she prepared two mugs. “I’d usually go to McGonagall, only… she’s not like you. She might… misunderstand.”

The teacher’s interest was piqued, Hermione could see as much. She had paused when dropping a teabag into a mug.

“I’ve been having strange dreams. Just two so far. On Sundays, usually.” Hermione continued. She didn’t want to tell her outright that she  _ knew _ . She just wanted to hint at it in a way that said  _ ‘I won’t tell’ _ .

“That I’ve killed someone. They’ve both been rather brutal, and a little terrifying.”

The darker haired witch nodded as she prepared the two brews. “Sugar?”

“Two.” Hermione said. “And I like it,” she continued. “Today I’ve found myself looking forward to the next dream. And then just now., in the bath,” Hermione watched the woman’s eyebrows shoot up. “I did something I’d never done before. And it really…” she trailed off, watching the glamoured Bellatrix stir and stir even though the mixture was long finished.

She finally stopped stirring, and they remained quiet for what felt like a long time.

“Does it give you a thrill?” The older woman finally asked, her back to Hermione and her voice low and almost dangerous. She sounded closer to the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange than Hermione had ever heard her.

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling breathless.

“A rush of adrenaline,” she said. “A feeling of victory, of having a hand in forever altering the delicate balance Mother Nature created? A feeling of absolute  _ control _ ?”

Hermione gulped and nodded. “Yes.” she sighed, her breathing a little laboured. “I wake from them feeling as though I can do absolutely anything and there’s no man or woman alive who can stop me.”

Bellatrix turned around now and Hermione could see the darkness in her eyes, not to mention the desire.

“And I-”

“Yes?”

“I find myself wanting to know how it really feels. Outside of a dream. To… to…”

“To personally pull the light from their eyes.”

“ _ God _ , yes.”

The teacher had her hands on either side of Hermione, pressing her into the kitchen counter she’d been leaning against. They started at each other for a few long moments, both gazes flicking between eyes and lips, until the dark witch leaned in, wanting to close the space between them.

“Take it off.” Hermione whispered, stopping her.

“What?” Bellatrix asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“The Glamour. Take it off.” Hermione watched the cogs turn in her head. Yes, she’d wanted to be subtle, but nothing about this conversation was how she’d expected it to go.

“I want to see you.” she pleaded softly. Her hands found purchase on the woman’s hips.

She finally caught on. A feeling of failure crept in on Bellatrix as she realised she’d been so cavalier that a student had figured her out in the first two weeks of school.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t.” She whispered, never pulling back from the close proximity to Hermione. “I’m old.”

“Take it off.” Hermione insisted again.

Bellatrix thought on it for a moment. Hermione obviously knew, that much was certain, but how much?

“Your dreams,” she started, now avoiding eye contact. “Are you aware-”

“That I’m watching you take out Voldemort’s inner circle? Yes.”

Okay, so. She knows.

She thought again. Hermione could see a new question forming.

“What did you do?” she asked, meeting the girl’s eyes once more. “In the bath?”

Hermione blushed a pale pink, and Bellatrix had her answer. 

“This dream connection, it seems to go both ways.” She said. Hermione frowned in confusion and interest. “I was napping. And I saw you. In the bath.”

Hermione’s blush became a darker red, and she watched Bellatrix lick her lips.

Then the clock on the wall chimed for nine o’clock, pulling them both out of whatever had just been happening.

“I have to go.” Bellatrix said, pulling away.

“You never took it off.”

Bellatrix strode over to the coffee table and picked up her crafted weapon of choice.

“Maybe another time.” she promised loosely.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “A garotte? Why aren’t you just using magic?” She couldn’t help her question.

“Too traceable. None of them know I’m here, except Severus. I don’t want the Dark Lord turning up on the school’s doorstep looking for me.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, and headed for the door.

“Don’t get caught, it’s past curfew.” the older woman warned her.

“I won’t.” she promised.

As they were about to open the door, Bellatrix pulled Hermione into a firm but chaste kiss.

“Sleep tight,” she whispered before they parted ways.

Their teas sat forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn't what you may have expected, but this is the direction it's going to be taking, exploring Hermione's darkness. Please leave a comment, they're very motivational.


	8. The Occlumens

“So, come on then,” Hermione said. “Take it off.”

She was alone with the Potions Mistress after a particularly busy lesson, one where half the students hadn’t bothered to put things back where they found them. She’d stayed to help tidy up.

‘Professor L’etarie’ looked over at her almost incredulously. “Not here. Anyone could walk in.”

Hermione paused in her tidying, a jar of newt’s eyes dropping back onto the workbench with a clunk. She smirked a little and went over to the classroom door, pushing it closed.

They’d been trying to catch a moment alone to talk all week, but none of their secret meeting plans had come to fruition. Perhaps spontaneity was the way to go.

Bellatrix pressed her lips together to (unsuccessfully) hide a smile. The girl was forward, she’d give her that.

She flicked her wand and the last few items tidied themselves away.

Bellatrix took a seat at a table and patted the one next to her, inviting Hermione to join her.

The brunette sat, and watched as the other woman waved her wand in a long, complicated motion.

She watched as the Glamour shimmered and her face transfigured - her hair even grew a few inches, became more unruly. Less rolling waves, more tight curls.

Hermione just stared at her for a few moments until Bellatrix broke the silence.

“Here I am, in all my wrinkly glory.” she said sarcastically.

Hermione shook her head, laughing a little. “What wrinkles? You don’t look a day over 35.”

Bellatrix frowned slightly, then quickly conjured a mirror.

Hermione was right - she no longer looked half a century old. She looked much younger. She looked closer to the supposed age of ‘Miss L’etarie’ than to her real number.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted aloud, “Just a few weeks ago I looked nearly fifty!” She exclaimed, touching her own face here and there, pushing and pulling to make sure it was real.

Hermione giggled next to her. “I don’t know how it’s happened, but you look beautiful. As I’m sure you always have.”

Was that a blush appearing across the dark witch’s cheeks?

They sat in silence for a moment, Bellatrix still prodding her face.

“Tell me how you ended up here,” Hermione finally whispered. “I want to know it all.”

Bellatrix eyed her for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons.

“At school, I was a swot. A teacher’s pet. I knew every answer and had no qualms about letting people know.”

She paused.

“But as the eldest of three daughters, no sons, in a pure-blood society, my intelligence didn’t matter. I was betrothed to Rodolphus by fourth year. He was already in seventh, graduating that summer to join the… Dark Lord.”

She took a sharp intake of breath as she used his moniker.

“Three years later, we married. It was the most boring, procedural wedding you could ever see. Like a play where all the actors despised each other.”

Hermione lifted her hand slightly, as though a student asking a question.Bellatrix gestured for her to speak.

“Why did you have to marry him?”

The older witch shrugged a little.

“We needed their money, they wanted to be associated with the Black name.”

Hermione nodded in understanding and gestured for her to continue.

She took a deep breath before doing so.

“Then came the wedding night. Obviously, I was opposed to the marriage in the first place, so I wasn’t at all interested in the, ah, consummation of it. But I had to. He was a terrifying man, even at just twenty. And I knew better, then, than to piss off terrifying men.

“And what happened next, well… I told Dumbledore and Minerva it was an Imperius. But we all know they don’t last fourteen years and, I think, really, they knew what I meant.”

Hermione tilted her head in interest.

“Let’s just call it… ancient Blood Magik. As I said, my parents didn’t care for my intelligence or magical prowess. As long as I got passing grades, I was just a piece on their chess board. Andromeda and Narcissa were the ones who should go into good careers.

“But Rodolphus had seen my skill at school and, more importantly, the Dark Lord knew of it.  _ He _ was the reason behind the curse. With the blood purity lark my parents were involved in, they couldn’t have been more pleased to hear I’d joined His ranks. They didn’t know I hadn’t chosen it. Wrote me a letter praising themselves for pushing me to be the best, when really all I’d learnt from them was how not to be a parent."

She stopped talking.

Hermione decided to fill the momentary silence with another question.

“So you were cursed to follow his orders?”

She nodded. “Tied to Rodolphus by blood. Then, once I was in Azkaban, kept in a cell away from him, without orders and with Dementors, all of that eroded at the curse until it was just a shadow.”

“Did you get through it all like Sirius did? The knowledge that he was innocent kept him sane, kept him going.”

Bellatrix smiled, sadly. “That’s a very Siri thing to do. Hopeful idiot.” she laughed to herself. “And no, not really. More… Revenge. I wanted to make Rodolphus suffer for the things he made me do.”

Her eyes had darkened as she watched her own hands fidget on the table. “If I could, I’d have mirrored every kill he ever made me do, on him.”

Hermione nodded, understanding and empathising.

“I saw what you did to him. Sounds like he deserved every second - and then some.”

“Did you…” Bellatrix hesitated, looking coy. “Did you like the way I kept him alive as long as I could? Made him feel the pain?”

Hermione nodded slowly.

“Who, uh, who was that last one you did? He was facing away, I couldn’t… I didn’t get to see the life leave their eyes.” She let out a shaky breath.

“Yes, that was deliberate.” the older woman admitted. “If anyone decided to look into your mind, I… I didn’t want them to see proof of what I was doing. He - he doesn’t know.”

“Voldemort?”

Bellatrix shook her head. 

“Dumbledore. He doesn’t know I’m doing this, no one does, except you. He and Minerva think I disappear every week for a therapy session with a St Mungo’s Mediwitch.”

“I’d never tell.”

Bellatrix stifled a small laugh. 

“You’re no occlumens, Hermione.”

“You could teach me. And then I could…” she trailed off. “I could still watch.” she breathed out.

They locked eyes.

“Maybe.”

-

“Don’t just clear your mind, shield it.” Bellatrix instructed. “It’s not enough to just not think about anything, you have to actually keep me out of the important things.”

“Snape always told Harry to just clear his mind.”

Bellatrix shook her head. “Yes, well, Severus would. A good first step for people like him and Potter. But you and I, we’re thinkers. Everything we know is in our minds, and we need access to most of that information even as we shield some of it from others.”

Hermione nodded in understanding.

“Because around accomplished Legillimens like Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, you never know when they might take a peek?” she asked.

Bellatrix nodded. “Or even if you’ll notice them do so. And if you’re constantly keeping your mind clear, you won’t hold very good conversation, making you suspicious. Severus can clear his mind for Occlumency because he constantly pretends that he doesn’t hold very good conversation anyway. That’s the persona he’s built to protect himself, a long time in the making.”

Hermione nodded again.

“Are you ready to try?”

They were in Bellatrix’s quarters, sitting quite close on her black velvet sofa. Hermione had come over with ideas for Halloween decorations, as ‘Miss L’etarie’ had been put in charge of them.

That was her excuse, at least.

Hermione nodded. 

“To start, you’ll want to pick a thought to focus on. Bring it to the front of your mind, and box away anything unrelated."

Bellatrix stood up, unsheathing her wand. Hermione immediately missed the closeness.

“Legillimens!” Bella said, spinning on her heel and pointing her wand in Hermione’s face.

The younger woman quickly pulled up the first thought in her head: how beautiful Bellatrix was.

It morphed easily into the memory of their first kiss.

It was blurred a little, a result of the potion they’d inadvertently consumed beforehand.

She did her best not to get distracted by the memory, working to box up her other thoughts in the background.

Suddenly, the scene changed. 

She was ten years old again, receiving her hand-delivered Hogwarts letter from McGonagall.

_ “Have you ever made anything strange happen, when you’re scared or angry, upset or hurt. Something… magical?” the old woman said with a Scottish lilt. _

_ Hermione thought deeply for a moment, then nodded, “One time-” _

The memory was interrupted by a cackle of laughter, and Hermione was unexpectedly ripped from her mind back into reality.

“Wait till I tell Minnie you saw her as an old woman!” Bellatrix laughed, sitting back down next to Hermione. “She won’t be pleased with you!”

Hermione chuckled. “I was ten! I didn’t know magic even existed, let alone made you age slower! Or that she wasn’t that old by wizard standards.”

Bella was still laughing softly to herself. Hermione adored the sound.

“Anyway, how did I do?”

Bellatrix collected herself and gave her a soft smile.

“You did well, for a first go. You lasted quite a while before I found something else. Again?”

She put her arm up on the back of the sofa and rested her head on her hand. Hermione turned more to face her.

“No,” she smirked.

Bellatrix raised a perfect eyebrow.

“No?” she asked.

Hermione shook her head.

“I just remembered what it’s like to kiss you, then I realised we’re alone in your room, and that we probably won’t be barged in on, because Professors knock.”

Bellatrix regarded her curiously for a moment, and Hermione shuffled closer.

“So?” she asked. “Can I kiss you again?”

She leaned in, and was stopped by Bellatrix’s hand on her cheek, eyes searching for something in hers. They were quiet for a short time, Hermione’s gaze flicking between her teacher’s eyes and lips, the tension between the two of them palpable.

“Are you sure you want me?” Bellatrix finally muttered. “You don’t just… like the idea, the bad girl vibe. The illicitness of a student-teacher relationship?”

Hermione slowly and gently shook her head.

“I’m into you.” she admitted freely. “I’ve been into you since I saw you at the Head table. I think I just would’ve been too shy to do anything about it if it wasn’t for that apple.”

Bellatrix’s lips parted as if she was about to say something, but Hermione interrupted.

“Don’t think about it so much. I know we’re thinkers, but… Let’s just do something we want to do because we want to do it. And damn the consequences.”

The darker haired witch finally let out a deep sigh and yielded to her desire, closing the distance between them and firmly planting her lips on Hermione’s.

Who immediately reached up to tangle her fingers in black curls. She gasped into the kiss, mouth falling open and inviting Bellatrix in.

Bellatrix’s tongue flicked out against her lips and Hermione let out a whimper.

Bella’s hand tensed up on her cheek, holding her in place as their tongues met, no fighting, just languid kissing.

She felt Bellatrix’s other hand creep down and push against her abdomen, and found herself slowly leaning backwards to lean on the cushioned armrest.

Hermione shifted her legs out from underneath her so she could rest against the arm fully, then moaned when Bellatrix shifted too, her thigh settling between Hermione’s legs and pressing against her  _ just right _ .

“Oh, Morgana, I love hearing you moan.” Bellatrix sighed as they parted for air, then kissed her again.

“Do you know-” kiss “-how many times-” kiss “I’ve replayed that dream in my head?” kiss. “Of you in the bath?” kiss. “You looked so fucking hot, using my knife."

She pulled back from the kiss a little to rest her forehead on Hermione’s, suddenly feeling very hot and bothered.

“I’d give anything to cause those moans myself.”

“Oh, but you do cause them,” Hermione said quietly. “It’s you I think of. It’s so hard not to touch myself in bed, when all the other girls are in the room. I know I won’t stay quiet if I start.”

Bellatrix practically snarled at the thought. “No, don’t you dare,” she warned. “They’re for me to hear. Only me.”

Hermione nodded. “Only you.” she promised.

She’d pulled her down to kiss her again when there was a knock at the door.

“Only me!” McGonagall called through it. “Are you coming down to dinner?”

Bellatrix sniggered at the older teacher’s greeting. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you down there. Won’t be long.”

“I’ll wait, I need a chat while we walk.”

Bellatrix pursed her lips to hide a laugh at Hermione’s widened eyes and horrified look.

“You sure?” Bella called back.

“Quite.”

Bellatrix sighed and got up off of Hermione and the sofa, taking a moment to fix herself up and replace her Glamour.

Hermione slowly sat up.

“Maybe I’ll wait here for five minutes until you’re gone.” She whispered.

Bellatrix shook her head.”Our chambers lock and unlock with wand proximity.” she said back. “You’d miss dinner.” Hermione’s stomach grumbled loudly at the thought. “And we can’t have that.”

“Who are you talking to?” Minerva asked. Bellatrix strode over to the door and Hermione hurriedly fixed herself up.

The dark witch opened the door. “Miss Granger wanted to learn Occlumnency. I’ve been giving her her first lesson.”

Hermione appeared behind her. Bella had expected her to look sheepish and give the game away, but she appeared as her usual bubbly, intelligent self, not even a blush on her neck.

“Evening, Professor!” she said cheerfully. “I’ll go down ahead so you two can chat. Thanks for everything, Miss L’etarie.” she smiled sweetly at Bella and politely at McGonagall, then wandered off out of the hallway.

Bellatrix stared after her for a moment, impressed by her ability to play along so easily, then turned to Minerva. 

“What did you want to talk about?”


	9. A Woman Scorned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wanted to call Harry out for being insubordinate in sixth year because he gets cocky about being the chosen one? Ever wanted to tell Snape off for leaving his Advanced Potion-Making book in an easy-to-find spot? Then this chapter is for you.

“Good afternoon, Victoria.”

Bellatrix jumped a little and turned from the blackboard. “Professor Dumbledore, good afternoon.” she said, surprised.

“Please, continue.” he said, gesturing to the board. She turned and carried on writing out the method for today’s potion. “I apologise for not being available for your previous lessons. Urgent business, I assure you.”

“That’s quite alright, sir. It was rather entertaining to see the ire in Severus’ face as I got more enthusiasm out of the class than he’d ever managed.”

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. “Minerva has certainly been singing your praises as a teacher, though of course you always had it in you, tutoring your sisters all that time.”

Bellatrix smiled sadly and put her chalk down. “Yes, I was always the reason they both wanted to go into Healing, just for the potion-making.”

“Your methods eventually inspired Severus too, you know.”

Bellatrix looked at Dumbledore curiously. “I’m sorry?”

He leaned against a desk at the back of the room. “He was terrible at potions, originally. Narcissa tutored him in her seventh year. He was in second.”

Bellatrix was silent for a moment as she took this new information in. “Are you telling me that’”

They were rudely interrupted by the sixth years arriving on time. She gave the Headmaster a look that said ‘we’ll continue this later’.

“Alright, settle down, come on. Yes, yes, it’s Hogsmeade weekend and I’m sure my Friday lesson means nothing in comparison, but let’s all at least pretend to try.”

A few laughs across the classroom. She smiled a little to herself, then glanced at Hermione and blushed a little at the proud look on her face.

“Today we’re brewing the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Properties, please - Lavender?”

Lavender looked a little sheepish.

“Sunshine yellow in colour, quite thin and runny?”

Miss L’etarie nodded. “Excellent, five points.”

Hermione thought Lavender looked humbly pleased with herself. It made Hermione smile again, knowing that Bellatrix was having a positive impact on the students’ education.

“Three guesses as to what the Elixir to Induce Euphoria does?” she said sarcastically, then pointed at Neville.

“Probably induces extreme happiness?”he said, feeling confident.

“Correct, let’s go for two points to you.”

“Miss Granger, tell me the most interesting thing about this Elixir.”

Hermione sat up straighter. “If you brew it correctly, it emits a rainbow when it’s complete.”

“Well, you all seem very knowledgeable about this potion, so why don’t you try making it? Method on the board, as usual. Myself and the Headmaster are here if you need us.”

Hermione watched for a moment as the woman began to wander around the room, watching as students began preparing their concoctions. She caught a glance at Dumbledore, who was eyeing her strangely, then pulled herself back to the task at hand and started gathering her own ingredients.

She looked up at the method on the board, noticing that a sprig of peppermint was required, the instruction being absent from the textbook in front of her. 

Nevertheless, she filled her potion with water with a quick “Aguamenti.” then began to grind the shrivelfig in her mortar. She carefully measured how much she needed, then stirred it in three times clockwise for the potion to turn turquoise.

Hermione continued to follow the instructions, regularly glancing up at the board to check.

She chanced a glance at Neville, who seemed to be doing perfectly fine all on his own, then over to Harry, who was a little behind her in his brewing.

Hermione looked up as Miss L’etarie made her way over to them, offering Hermione a smile. “How are we getting on?” she asked.

“Fine, thank you. I’m nearly finished,” she said. “Neville’s doing well too, aren’t you, Neville?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’m doing alright. I think.” He stammered, adding some more shrivelfig. “When do I add peppermint? I can’t quite read it.”

“Right before you cast the cheering charm to complete it.” She said. Hermione added her wormwood and the potion turned yellow.

“Miss Granger is about to do it, let’s watch.”

Hermione blushed, feeling eyes turn to her, the first student to complete the day’s potion.

She dropped in the sprig of peppermint, pulled out her wand, and cast “ _ Vicerus Eruptum. _ ”

A beautiful rainbow spouted out of the cauldron, semi-transparent and looking ethereal, then quickly faded.

“Wow.” Neville said softly. He squared his shoulders and got his wand out ready.

He added his wormwood and watched as his potion turned a matching yellow to Hermione’s. He dropped his peppermint in, cast his cheering charm, and grinned widely when an identical rainbow appeared.

“I did it! I did a potion right first time with no help!”

Hermione grinned back at him. “Good job, Neville.” she said sincerely.

“Miss L’etarie, thank you. Potions is really important for becoming a Herbologist and I always thought I’d fail. Just wait till Gran hears, she’ll be so pleased!”

Hermione heard Harry cast his cheering charm from her other side, and she turned to watch as his orange-yellow potion emitted a weak rainbow.

“I didn’t see you add your peppermint before you did that, Mr Potter.” Miss L’etaire commented.

Harry shrugged. “I added it first instead.”

Hermione saw Victoria’s head tilt almost imperceptibly.

“Is that what the instructions were?”

Harry hesitated, glancing down at his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, where a strangely familiar untidy scrawl clearly stated to add the peppermint first.

Victoria’s eyeline quickly followed his own down to the book.

“Where did you get this book, Mr Potter?” she asked plainly. The whole class was now watching.

Harry swallowed thickly.

“It was in the cupboard at the beginning of the year.”

“Right, and you decided to follow the chicken-scratch instructions of a complete stranger over those of your teacher?”

Harry opened his mouth to talk, but Ron interrupted him. 

“It’s been doing him just fine in Slughorn’s lessons.” he stated. “Golden boy in those. It’s just yours he’s bad at, so maybe it’s not him at all.”

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. From the look on Victoria’s face, this was the wrong thing to say. The woman’s gaze turned to Ron.

“The potions I set have been carefully crafted over the years to be the most precise and efficient way to brew them. Horace Slughorn may be a Potions Master, but I assure you, he is no master of Potions. He’s an old man who enjoys a cushy life and an easy job. The notes in your book, Mr Potter, are a step up from the outdated methods he sets you, I’m sure. And mine are a step up from that textbook, hence why every student in this room - except you - will have brewed the potion identically.”

Everyone stood in stunned silence. After a beat, Miss L’etarie held out her hand, palm up.

“Hand it over.”

“What? No.”

“Mr Potter, seeing as you found it in a school cupboard, that textbook is school property, therefore I have the authority to confiscate it. Hand it over. Now.”

Harry reluctantly flicked the book shut and held it out to her.

Victoria turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger, you’re responsible. Can I trust you’ll see to it that Mr Potter orders the most recent edition of the text whilst in Hogsmeade?”

The brunette nodded.

“Thank you.”

Miss L’etarie made her way over to Dumbledore, calling out “What are you all waiting for? Complete and bottle your elixirs, tidy up, and all of you write me a foot of parchment on the importance of following a recipe correctly.”

Several students groaned unhappily at being made to pay for Harry’s mistake.

Bellatrix began flicking through the textbook, Dumbledore peeking at it from next to her.

“Property of the Half-Blood Prince,” she muttered so only he could hear her. She scoffed.

“I wonder who that could be.” he said.

“There’s no wonderment about it, Albus. Look, all of these notes are my changes, which I’ve since improved upon further.” She scoffed again as she landed back on the  _ Euphoria _ page. “Can’t even get it the right way around, slimy plagiarising git.”

“Do you believe berating Harry for using it was the right way to control the situation?” the Headmaster asked, his tone giving no indication as to what kind of answer he’d like to hear.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I hear he wants to be an Auror. He won’t get very far if he keeps up the insubordination - or Weasley with the backtalk, mind you.”

He merely hummed in thought and they stood in silence to watch the class.

-

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?!” Bellatrix practically shouted, having cornered Snape in his office. “Leaving your blasted Potions book in this school?” She dropped it down on his desk with a loud  _ thwack _ . “All your little notes and illicit spells!”

He looked from the book to her with wide eyes. 

“I tested Sectumsempra.” she said. “The poor rat bled out within  _ seconds _ , I imagine it would only take a couple of minutes for a human to do the same. And you left it within reach of  _ children _ , Severus.”

He had the good grace to look a little ashamed.

“And let’s not get started on the fact you had the audacity to write the notes Cissy gave you into it. Thanks to this stupid fucking textbook, Potter thinks he’s some sort of Potions God because Slughorn doesn’t bother to look at the latest advances!”

“I didn’t need it anymore, I’d learned everything, and I forgot about the book.” He said.

Bellatrix blinked at him. “You  _ forgot _ about the book you’d noted your  _ bloodletting _ spell in? How irresponsible are you? Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself? You’re a teacher now, for crying out loud, you should have considered that you’d left the thing there and removed it once you were appointed!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she turned on her heel and made for the door.

Before she stepped out, she turned back to him. “And while I’m here, if you ever bully Neville Longbottom again, you’ll not walk properly again. And not from a leg injury. Am I clear?”

Even with the face of a twenty-five year old, the essence of Bellatrix Lestrange, Famed Death Eater poured from her, and she was still terrifying. 

He nodded sheepishly.

“Thank you.”

-

“You’re sexy when you’re mad at my best friend.” came a whisper into Bellatrix’s ear that sent shivers down her spine.

She replaced the book she was holding back onto the shelf - it hadn’t been what she was looking for anyway.

“Mm, maybe he  _ should _ keep being insubordinate, then.” she whispered back.

Hermione looked around, quickly making sure no one could see them, deep in the restricted section.

She put her hands on the bookshelf, arms either side of Bellatrix, and pressed her front to the older woman’s back. 

“I’d be subordinate for you any time.” Hermione muttered, finding enough confidence to gently bite the lobe of Bellatrix’s ear.”

“You must stop, Hermione, or I’ll take you against this bookshelf without a care for who hears.”

Hermione reluctantly pulled back, smiling innocently at the darker witch as she turned around.

“Did you make him order a new textbook?” Bellatrix asked.

Hermione nodded. “Arriving first thing tomorrow morning. Why are you in the library at ten on a Sunday morning, by the way?”

“Why are you?” Bellatrix countered.

“Didn’t see you at breakfast. Figured we’re so alike I’d probably find you here.

Bellatrix shook her head, laughing a little. “You caught me. Doing a little Potions research.” She pulled another book out and started flicking through it.

Hermione watched her for a few minutes, a comfortable silence settling over them, before she finally asked the question burning in her throat.

“Are you going out tonight?”

Bellatrix stilled as she turned the page.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Nott. Bumbling idiot of a man. Should be easy.”

“I want to come with you.”

“No.” Bellatrix said bluntly, returning to looking through the book.

“Please.”

“It’s too dangerous, you’re just a student.”

“A smart, skilled student who’s already fought a serious battle in the middle of the Ministry against a dozen Death Eaters.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I just want to watch from nearby. I… I don’t want to dream it any more. I want to see it happen.”

Bellatrix looked up, her eyes darkened, seeing herself reflected back at her with Hermione’s bloodlust.

“If you can borrow Harry’s cloak and meet me at the front doors for nine sharp, you can come. But do  _ not _ get involved, whatever happens. I can handle myself.”


	10. First Time For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a taste of the thing she's been craving all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ten already. At this many chapters in the original, we were already at Valentines day. I'm very happy with the speed at which this version is progressing.   
> It does mean we'll have Halloween chapters soon and Christmas ones soon after that, but on the bright side, nothing beats a bit of Christmas fluff!
> 
> Read and review, please feel free to leave (constructive!) criticism. Comments make write quicker, I'm like Tinkerbell and applause.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nine o'clock. 

Hermione had managed to sneak Harry's cloak out of the boys' dorm while they were at dinner. 

She'd been waiting for about five minutes in the chilly night air when the castle doors opened behind her and Professor L'etarie crept out of them. 

The older woman looked around for a few moments, searching for Hermione. 

A hand on her lower back alerted her to the younger girl's presence. 

Hermione poked her head out from under the cloak and smiled. 

"Hey, shall I leave it on for a bit?" 

Bellatrix nodded, waving her wand to bring her normal features out. 

"Just until we're out of the grounds." 

They walked quickly and in silence until they were well past the school gates and halfway to Hogsmeade. 

Hermione had started to doubt herself. She wasn't sure she was ready for this, but at the same time, she didn't have to do anything. She was merely tagging along so she could see what it was really like, and from that, she could make an informed decision. 

Right? 

Bellatrix seemed to know what she was thinking. 

"Are you sure you want to do this, Hermione?" she asked quietly, turning her wand absentmindedly in her hand. 

Hermione nodded, before remembering she was invisible. "Yes." she said plainly. 

Bellatrix ducked into the shadow of the Hog's Head, and felt Hermione sidle up close to her. 

"You can take it off, now." she said. Hermione pulled off the cloak and stuffed it into a small beaded pouch slung across her. "There's still time to turn back." 

"I don't want to turn back." Hermione whispered. 

Bellatrix searched her eyes for a moment, then held her hand out. 

"Take my hand." the older witch said. Hermione did as she was asked. "Don't feel bad if you throw up." 

"Why would I - agh!" 

Hermione was interrupted by feeling like a fishing hook had caught her in the nose, and was pulling her through a straw, where she couldn't breathe or see or think or - 

And then just as suddenly as it had began, it stopped, and she could see and breathe and her nose was free and oh God here it comes - 

She turned away from Bellatrix and brought her dinner up into the grass. 

"Oh, Merlin…" Hermione groaned. 

"Yes, most people vomit their first time." 

Hermione cast a quick spell that washed her mouth out, then stood up and looked around at the field they were in. 

"Where are we?" 

"Upper Booth. Few miles outside Manchester. Nott's mistress lives here." 

Hermione followed Bellatrix's gaze, turning around and seeing a small, cozy looking cottage. 

"Are we going inside?" 

"I am. You don't have to." 

Hermione looked her in the eye determinedly. "I want to. Shall I put the cloak back on?" 

Bellatrix nodded and Hermione retrieved it from her bag and threw it back over herself. 

They walked slowly towards the cottage, finding that there were no wards to keep them out - to which Bellatrix muttered 'idiot' and had to stifle a laugh at how easy this would be. 

Once they had made their way in, Hermione kept close behind. 

"What will you do with the mistress?" she whispered, not that she thought she'd be heard between the closed bedroom door and the giggling and moaning coming from behind it. 

"I intended to kill her too. But if you don't want me to…" 

"No. Do it. Or there'll be a witness." 

Bellatrix grinned evilly. 

"As you wish, pet." 

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine at the look Bellatrix gave her. 

The older woman slowly pushed open the bedroom door, pointing her wand in front of her. "Evening, Theodore." she said. 

The man on the bed jumped up and the woman beneath him screamed, hurriedly pulling the covers up over herself. 

She kept screaming, even as Bellatrix cackled manically and pulled out her knife. 

She lunged for Nott, dagger landing deep in his chest, far quicker than he could grab his wand. 

She tackled him to the floor, stabbing him gleefully as the woman on the bed screamed and screamed. 

Hermione stood, transfixed, in the doorway. She'd never seen such a display of absolute insanity. 

The younger witch came to her senses just as the mistress did, spotting her reaching for her wand on the other nightstand with a shaky hand. 

Hermione leapt into action as the wand was raised toward Bellatrix. She cambered onto the bed, eliciting more screams from the woman at appearing out of nowhere, and pulled the dagger Bellatrix had given her from her belt. 

She used one hand to physically bat the witch's wand from her hand, and used her right to press the blade to her throat, straddling her to hold her down. 

Her arms flailed at Hermione and she used her left to grab both her arms and hold them above her head on the bed. She didn't know where the strength had come from but she wasn't complaining. 

"What do you want?" the witch cried, tears beginning to fall. "I have money! Lots of it! Or you can take my jewellery!" 

Nott's screams of pain had died down. He was now whimpering and groaning on the floor, and Hermione could feel Bellatrix watching her. 

She laughed at the witch beneath her. 

"Shh…" Hermione cooed. "We don't want your riches." 

"The-then what?" She was sobbing now.

Hermione leant down, getting close enough to almost touch noses. 

"Just to watch you die." she whispered. 

Time seemed to slow as she pressed as hard as she could and dragged the blade across the witch's neck, spilling her 'pure' blood onto the expensive covers. 

The woman coughed and sputtered and Hermione pressed deeper, blood coming up through the witch's mouth and trickling down her cheeks. 

It wasn't long before she stopped struggling and stilled underneath the young Gryffindor. 

Hermione watched as her eyes, wide with shock, glazed over, no live left inside them to shine. 

Time caught up with her then, and she turned to look at Bellatrix with a grin. 

The dark witch was smiling back at her, and they both got up off of their respective kills. 

Bellatrix rounded the bed and pushed Hermione up against the closest wall. 

"I told you not to intervene." the dark witch said harshly. 

"She pulled her wand on you. I couldn't have you getting hurt." she said softly back, fisting her hands in Bellatrix's skirt and pulling until she was pressed against her. 

"No, that's not what happened, is it?" Hermione looked at her innocently. "You just couldn't resist, could you? Your first kill?" she whispered into the girl's ear. 

Hermione moaned. 

"No. No, I couldn't, I wanted to do it so bad." she admitted. "She was there screaming and I had to do it, had to shut her up, had to watch her blood flow." she whined. 

"Mm, and you did so well, pet." Bellatrix said softly, kissing Hermione's jaw and then biting it a little. "Merlin, I could just take you right here." she said, and suckled gently on Hermione's neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. 

" _ Fuck _ , yes, take me n- Bella, no!" she shouted. Theodore Nott had crawled over to them, attempting to rear up and grab at Bellatrix. 

Hermione pushed Bellatrix aside and kicked at him, the heel of her shoe hitting him in the jaw. 

He fell backwards, and Bellatrix stamped on his throat. This time they heard a sickening crunch, and he finally went limp. 

Bellatrix groaned as she moved, and her hand flew to her side. 

"Tosspot fucking stabbed me!" she cried out. "Hermione, you need to apparate us away." 

"I don't know how, the lessons haven't started yet!" 

"Well I can't, or we'll definitely get splinched! You've got a better chance at it than I do. It's just Destination, Determination, Deliberation. Picture your destination, be determined to reach it, and go without haste, but with deliberation." 

Hermione took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and held tightly to Bellatrix's hand." Where to?"

"I need a healer. I'm going to plant an image in your mind, alright? And you're going to take us there. You can do it, Hermione, you're a strong witch." 

Bellatrix brought up her free hand and pressed her fingers against Hermione's temple, and they both closed their eyes. 

Hermione could see another cottage in her mind, with a solid oak door. She took a deep breath and turned on the spot, feeling once more as though she were being forced through a straw. 

When she opened her eyes she could see the cottage ahead, no more than twenty feet or so. 

At the sound of their appearance in the night, a woman's head popped up in the window, then promptly disappeared. 

The oak door opened and she stepped outside into the wind. 

She beckoned them forward, granting them access through the extensive protective wards. 

Bellatrix gripped onto Hermione, the younger girl bearing the brunt of her weight as she aided her to the elderly blonde woman standing in the doorway. 

Hermione could see in the lamplight that she was pale, paler than usual, and her skin was shining with sweat. 

"Evening, Mrs McGonagall." she said weakly. "I need your help."


	11. The Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix gets patched up by an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today, Jan 1st, and I'm 25. I was holding off on posting it because I had someone beta reading it but I was too eager to post it haha. Enjoy.

“What’ve you done this time then, Bellatrix?” The elderly woman asked, guiding her to the sofa and aiding Hermione with surprising strength for a woman of her age.

They helped Bellatrix to lay down on the sofa.

“None of your business, Ygraine.” The dark witch grumbled, hissing in pain as she moved.

“Something illegal, then.” She turned to Hermione. “What’s your name, dear?”

Hermione pulled her worried gaze away from Bellatrix. “Hermione. Uh, Granger.”

“Miss Granger, would you remove her corset and shirt whilst I get some supplies?”

Ygraine left the room, leaving no space for Hermione to argue.

She knelt down by the sofa, Bellatrix facing into the backrest to give her injured side easy access.

“I suppose I can do that,” she muttered. She started undoing Bellatrix’s corset strings and spotted the woman smirk out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re gonna see me one day, pet. Might as well be now.”

Hermione blushed at the promise of  _ one day _ , made quick work of the ties and tugged the corset out from under her.

“You don’t need to take it off,” Bellatrix said as Hermione’s cold hands touched her waist. “Just shuck my shirt up.”

Hermione did as she was told, tugging the black cotton shirt up out of Bella’s skirt and bunching it under her breasts.

She was inspecting the wound curiously when Ygraine came back, carrying a wooden chest that looked a little dusty.

“This stuff should all still be good. How’re you feeling?”

“Shit.” Bellatrix replied.

Ygraine knelt down next to Hermione and started inspecting Bellatrix’s wound.

“Is there anything I can do?” Hermione asked, watching her set about working on the professor with practiced ease.

Mrs McGonagall handed Hermione a wet cloth. “Keep her cool, wipe her face. Thank you, dear.”

Not once did Ygraine pull out a wand to aid in her efforts, which Hermione found curious, as she was using drops of Dittany to heal it, though it didn’t seem to be doing anything.

“Is it cursed?” The woman asked plainly, glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she looked over them at Bellatrix’s face.

Bellatrix side-eyed her. “Maybe.”

“What kind?”

The dark witch hesitated, and Hermione swatted her forehead gently with the cloth, her warning to ‘ _ just tell her _ ’.

“Nunquam sanandum…” she mumbled.

Hermione saw Ygraine roll her eyes, tut and sigh all at once.

“Curse your father for teaching you that.” she muttered back. Her gaze flitted to Bellatrix’s back, and Hermione’s soon followed.

She failed to hold in her gasp at the angry, thick scars that marred her Professor’s fair skin.

“Oh, Bella…” she sighed, barely stopping herself from reaching out to caress them.

“Courtesy of mummy and daddy.” She said bitterly, then hissed as Ygraine applied a paste labelled ‘Numbing Salve’ in Professor McGonagall’s handwriting. “Stitches?” she asked.

Ygraine nodded. “Fraid so.” Miss Granger, pop over to that cabinet there,” she gestured across the room, “and pour Bellatrix a nice cold firewhiskey.”

“Make it a double, pet.”

“Is that really the best idea?” Hermione asked, getting up and heading over to the cabinet anyway.

“It’s for the pain.” Ygraine said. “Pour yourself one if you like, you look shaken up.”

Hermione poured two firewhiskeys into a pair of crystal tumblers, dropping some ice into Bellatrix’s double, and picked up a small metal straw to go in it.

She came back to the sofa, put her own drink on the coffee table, and then held the other glass in front of Bellatrix’s face, just in the right place for her to drink from the straw.

The dark-haired witch sucked down the whole thing in one go, and hermione put the empty glass next to her full one.

“Ah, thanks, pet.”

Hermione smiled a little and brushed some damp black curls back from her pale forehead. The teacher’s cheeks pinked a little, whether from the alcohol or the Dittany, Hermione couldn’t tell. She was just glad Bellatrix looked a little better.

The Potions teacher sucked in a sharp breath of air, and Hermione looked at Ygraine, who had begun the stitches.

She couldn’t help her question.

“Why aren’t you using magic?”

Ygraine glanced up at her for a moment, not missing a beat in her movements.

“Well, firstly, it’s because our dear Bella has been stabbed with her own cursed knife, which means wounds by it’s blade won’t heal by magical means, only by muggle means and long term healing practices.” she explained. “And second, probably because I have no magic to use in the first place.”

Hermione nodded slowly, still stroking Bellatrix’s brow.

“So you’re a muggle?”

“That’s right.”

“Ygraine McGonagall.”

“Correct.

“So you’re McG- er, Minerva’s…”

“Wife.” Ygraine finished for her.

Hermione nodded once more.

“She keeps me a secret, you see.”

“Yes. I’d thought we were quite close, for a teacher and their top student,” (Bellatrix scoffed. They were as close as two could be.) “But she’s never mentioned you, or even being married.”

“I’m too special to go blabbing about.” Ygraine tied a knot or two in the thread. “Anyone could capture me and use me as a hostage against her. Dear Bella knows that.”

“Of course,” Hermione realised. “Minerva is such a prominent Order figure, always has been.”

Ygraine cut the thread and used a clean cloth to wipe at the wound gently.

“How did you meet?” Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I’ve been a nurse for fifty-five years. One of Minnie’s relatives was a patient of mine. I was there when she needed me. One thing led to another, and we’ve been married forty-five years.”

Hermione smiled. “Bittersweet.” she said.

Ygraine nodded sadly. “That’s the way the world wanted us, though. Can’t complain.” she said as she gently applied a large adhesive bandage to Bellatrix’s side. “There you are, dear. Get some rest, don’t get in too many fights, and you’ll be right as rain by your birthday.”

Hermione helped Bellatrix to sit up carefully.

“That’s a few weeks away! You can’t make it go any quicker? Only I’ve… things to do.”

“I’m sure you do, but they’ll have to wait if it’s what I think it is.” she gave Hermione a suspicious look, then. The Gryffindor did her best to look innocent.

Bellatrix pouted, eyeing up Hermione’s untouched firewhiskey. Hermione passed it to her and she took it gratefully.

“Miss Granger, unlike most magical folk, you didn’t seem too surprised when I started sewing your teacher up with needle and thread.”

Hermione was surprised for a moment, forgetting that stitches weren’t normal.

“Oh, of course, I’m muggleborn. I’ve had stitches a couple of times, too.”

Bellatrix looked at her with interest.

“Lovely, I’ll give you some clean dressings and you can make sure she changes them, then.

“Of course. I’ll look after her.” Bellatrix smiled up at her.

“For now, you should be going. It’s rather late. Bellatrix, you’re to come see me every week, like before, and I’ll keep an eye on it.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes in an endeared way, and stood up with Hermione’s help.

“You’ll have to apparate us again, darling.” she said. “I’m in no fit state.”

They both thanked Ygraine for her assistance, then made their way out and past the wards so they could apparate.

Once they arrived at the Hogwarts gates, Hermione threw the invisibility cloak over the both of them so she could help Bellatrix walk without it looking too odd to anyone watching. They started up the lengthy path to the castle.

After a long silence that saw them get halfway, Bellatrix spoke.

“Out with it, Hermione, I can feel you buzzing with a question.” She squeezed the girl’s arm.

“What did Ygraine mean when she said ‘like before’?”

Bellatrix sighed a little.

“You saw my back.” she said, as if that were explanation enough.

The frown Hermione gave her told her that it wasn’t.

“My parents cursed a belt. It’s what they would beat us with. So it would take forever to heal and we’d have longer to reflect on our behaviour.

Hermione looked at her sadly.

“When Minerva found me sobbing at twelve in the girls’ bathroom, trying to clean them as they were infected, she brought me straight to Ygraine. That first visit was the worst. Having the infection scraped out and being bandaged up by some old muggle I didn’t know. Wouldn’t have gone along with it if I hadn’t trusted Minerva so much.”

Hermione gently rubbed the back of Bellatrix’s hand.

“It was really that bad?”

“Yep. I saw her every single week while I was at school. Cissy and Andy eventually had to come, too. Our parents would come to ‘watch the quidditch’,” she said with air quotes, “Then request our presence in an old classroom and beat the snot out of us for our perceived slights.”

Hermione gasped in horror. “They beat you  _ at school _ ?!”

Bellatrix nodded, and Hermione stayed quiet for a moment while she took it all in.

“So, Narcissa and Andromeda have the same kind of scars?”

Bellatrix nodded. “I’d hazard a guess Sirius and Regulus did, too. We never really talked about it.”

“Regulus?”

“Sirius’ brother, my other cousin. Regulus Arcturus.”

They fell quiet again until they reached the staff wing, walking the whole way in comfortable silence.

Bellatrix unlocked her door and, still under the cloak, whispered, “Thank you for coming along tonight, darling. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” she admitted, and captured Hermione’s lips in her own.

The kiss was different to any others they’d shared: softer, sweeter, with Hermione’s hands on Bellatrix’s hips and Bella’s hand on her cheek.

They parted, and the Professor offered her a little smile. “Goodnight, Hermione,” she whispered, slipping out from under the cloak and into her room.

Hermione stared after her for a moment, even after the door had closed. 

She finally came to her senses and grinned as she started off for Gryffindor Tower.

Yes, Bellatrix had gotten hurt, and she’d need time to rest before they could do it all again, but Ygraine hadn’t given any indication that she  _ wouldn’t  _ be okay, which meant she would be fine!

Then there was the sweet kiss they’d just shared.

The news that Professor McGonnagall was married to a woman.

The fact she’d successfully apparated not just for the first time, but twice in one night,  _ and _ with someone tagging along.

Oh, and, not to mention the greatest moment of the night - watching the blood spill from the witch’s throat!

A very, very small part of her felt bad, as if she’d killed someone innocent. But the rest of her knew that anyone who A. cavorted with Death Eaters and B. partook in an affair, was not even close to innocent.

She closed her eyes and sighed happily for a moment as she walked the hallway, coming up to the common room entrance.

“Abstinence.” she said to the portrait, which admitted her with a roll of the eyes.

Even once she was curled up in bed, she still had a smile on her face. 

Yes, Hermione Granger had killed someone tonight.

And she’d loved every second of it.


	12. The Choices We Make

"So, how are things going with Luna?" Hermione asked quietly, hidden away in a corner of the library with Ginny, helping her study for her Owls. 

"Really well, actually." The younger girl replied. "I'm thinking of coming out to mum and dad over the winter holidays."

"Ginny, that's great! How do you think they'll take it?" 

Ginny just shrugged. "Dunno. I'm gonna shout it from the train as it leaves the station when we come back."

Hernione covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "That's pretty clever." she said. 

She glanced up just as Miss L'etarie passed their table, her finger pressed to her lips, telling them to be quieter. 

"Maybe I will, too." she whispered. "Tell my parents, I mean. I'll tell them boxing day morning then escape to yours."

Ginny smirked at her. "How are things going with _you_?" 

Hermione blushed, remembering the feeling of a helpless witch begging for her life beneath her. 

"Pretty well. We're… Getting to know each other."

Ginny winked at her. 

"Not like that!" 

This time it was Madam Pince who shushed them, having appeared out of nowhere. 

"If you want to study, study. If you want to gossip, go elsewhere." she whispered harshly. 

The next time Hermione saw Bellatrix - or rather, Miss L'etarie - it was in McGonagall's class with the Hufflepuffs.

The older woman didn't speak to her, or even make eye contact, despite how many times Hermione tried to catch her eye. Whenever she put her hand up, McGonagall's was there in a second, helping her with a cold and stunted tone. 

Hermione frowned at herself as McGonagall walked away again. 

It wasn't like she'd done anything to upset her - oh. Wait. 

Minerva's secret wife was the one who had patched Bellatrix up. 

With Hermione present. 

Who had blatantly apparated them from wherever Bellatrix had gotten hurt. 

So McGonagall knew Hermione had gone with her. 

That was just great. 

When class was over, she made short work of packing up her things and would have been first out of the door if it wasn't for:

"Miss Granger, a moment, please."

She couldn't hide her sigh at being held behind, and likewise Bellatrix couldn't seem to hide her guilt and shame. 

Nor could McGonagall hide her anger and disappointment. 

Hermione stood in front of Minerva's desk in silence while the other students were filing out. No point in feigning pleasantries or innocence when she knew what was coming. 

Once the classroom was empty, McGonagall clicked her fingers at Bellatrix and pointed for her to stand next to Hermione. 

She did so with her head down and her hands clasped in front of her, now displaying no emotion. 

Hermione was a little jealous that she was able to compose herself so easily, when she knew McGonagall could still see the expression on her own face. 

"I trust you know what this is about?" McGonagall asked,leaning on her desk and standing, towering over them both. 

Hermione gulped and nodded, lifting her head and meeting her Head of House's eyes. 

"Ygraine told me everything. Would you care to explain, _Miss L'etarie_ ," she said "why you allowed a sixteen-year-old student who is _under your care_ to accompany you on your _mission_?" 

Bellatrix hesitated. 

"I wasn't thinking, ma'am."

"No, you weren't, were y-" 

"I'm seventeen." Hermione interrupted bravely. 

McGonagall raised her eyebrows and turned to look at Hermione. 

"And just how are you doing that maths, Miss Granger?" 

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I started first year when I was ten, and turned eleven on the 17th September right after term started." 

"Yes, five years ago." 

"And then in third year, I was allowed a Time-Turner." 

Hermione stopped there, knowing her Professor was smart enough to understand. 

McGonagall closed her eyes, hung her head, and sighed, then regarded Hermione with a tired look. 

"You used it _that much_?" 

Hermione nodded. 

"So, technically, I'm not underage. And I can spend my time with whomever I like."

McGonagall stared into Hermione's eyes with her lips pursed. "But alas, you are a student, and she is faculty. You are still under her care."

"Not on the weekends." Hermione retorted. 

McGonagall let out a short laugh. "This is a boarding school, Miss Granger. You are always under our care even at eleven at night on a Sunday _and_ ," she said, stopping Hermione from interrupting again, "even when off of school grounds." 

Hermione shut her mouth in annoyance. 

The three of them were silent for a moment as Minerva looked between them. 

"Tell me what you did." She finally said to Hermione. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Tell me what you did while you were there with her." 

Hermione's mouth fell open. 

"I just… I just watched." she lied. 

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at her and then looked at Bellatrix. 

"Is that true?" 

Bellatrix looked up from under her lashes, and nodded. 

"She just wanted to know what I was doing. See the greatest Dark witch alive, in action, in service of the Light." she explained away. 

McGonagall looked at them both again, seemingly satisfied with their answers. 

"It will not happen again. Understood?" 

They both nodded and muttered "Yes, ma'am." 

Minerva sat back down. 

"You may go." 

Before Hermione could process their dismissal, Bellatrix had turned on her heel and was marching from the room. 

Hermione soon followed but, when she reached the hallway, Miss L'etarie was nowhere to be seen. 

For the rest of the week, Hermione tried to linger at the end of every class, trying to get Bellatrix alone to speak to her, but the woman had become the first person to exit every classroom - and once Hermione had caught onto this fact and tried to follow, she always disappeared by the time Hermione was out the door. 

"How's your student-teacher fling?" Ginny asked, off-hand, while they were sitting out in the courtyard of a Thursday evening. 

Hermione scoffed. 

"Yeah, really well, we're inseparable." she joked, shaking her head. 

Ginny tilted her head at Hermione's forlorn look. 

"Talk to me." 

Hermione sighed, thinking deeply. 

"She's rather infuriating. I thought… I thought we had something. And then we, well, we shared a really special night."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. 

"Not like that!" Hermione laughed. "But then we sort of got in trouble for it. I thought whatever we had, what we were doing, was more important than getting in a little trouble. At the very least I thought we could continue whatever we had without… Doing it again."

She swallowed thickly. 

"It's hard to explain what we were doing without telling you everything." she sighed. 

"So just tell me, Mione. I can take it. 

Hermione eyed her for a second, then looked around at the courtyard for eavesdroppers as she thought. 

"She's sort of… working for the Order. Only Dumbledore doesn't know about it."

"And you helped her do something?" 

"Yes." 

"And you got in trouble for going with her?" 

"Yes." 

"See, that wasn't so hard, and I still don't know very much." 

Hermione nodded. "I suppose. She hasn't talked to me since. I just wish I could talk to someone about it without skirting around what happened." she groaned. 

Ginny leaned her head on Hermione's shoulder. "I can keep a secret, Hermione. So I'm here if you want to talk about it, yeah?" 

The older girl nodded again. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Ginny." 

When Miss L'etarie's double Potions lesson rolled around the next day, Hermione decided to play her at her own game and feign disinterest. 

She didn't so much as look in the Professor's direction once, and as the lesson wore on, she could feel eyes on her with increased frequency. 

But at no point did she look up. She focused intently on her work, keeping a blank, passive expression so as not to give anything away. 

She still didn't look up even as the class ended, and once she'd packed up her things she turned to leave and felt a hand wrap around her wrist, keeping her in place. 

She didn't turn, instead watching the rest of the class leave, until they were alone for the first time since arriving back at the castle nearly a week ago. 

Finally, she looked down at the hand on her arm, then followed the arm up to look 'Victoria' in the face. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, until Bellatrix broke the silence. 

"I, uh… I need to see Ygraine. I still can't apparate, and Minerva is busy." she said quietly. 

Hermione closed her eyes, laughed a little, then looked back at her teacher. 

"Okay." she nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little. 

She might be mad at Bellatrix, but the last thing Hermione wanted was her wound getting infected. 

Bellatrix let go of her wrist and offered her a soft, apologetic smile. 

"D'you want to go now?" Hermione asked. 

"If you've nothing more pressing to do." 

Hermione shook her head and picked up her rucksack. 

"Never. Come on."

They walked down to the castle doors in silence, only speaking to offer friends or colleagues polite _hello'_ s as they passed. 

Once they were out into the open air, Hermione felt like the tension between them suddenly descended, palpable enough to cut with the knife safely stowed at the bottom of Hermione’s backpack. 

"So," Hermione started, deciding to just broach the topic. "You've been avoiding me." 

"I know," Bellatrix admitted. "Minerva and I had another chat earlier in the week. She was attempting to talk some sense into me, and I suppose it worked." 

"In what way?" 

Bellatrix sighed. 

"You're only young, Hermione. Your whole future ahead of you. I… I don't want to corrupt you. I shouldn't be encouraging any Darkness inside you."

Hermione shook her head. "You aren't corrupting me or encouraging the Darkness. Merely encouraging me to make my own choices."

"Yore the Golden Girl, Hermione. You don't deserve to follow me into the Dark just because you think it's what you want." 

Hermione laughed as they passed through the wrought iron gate. 

"I'm not following you anywhere." she said, indignantly, offended that Bellatrix seemed to think she was some sort of sheep. 

Bellatrix frowned at her as Hermione took her hand. 

"I'm by your side."

The Gryffindor smiled softly, then turned on the spot and apparate them to just outside the McGonagall's wards.

Bellatrix found herself watching Hermione curiously as she was tugged along the crazy paving that led to the cottage. They were still holding hands when Ygraine ushered them inside with a smile. 

Once Bellatrix's wound had been tended to, the two of them were sitting next to each other on the sofa while Ygraine prepared tea in the kitchen. 

"By my side?" Bellatrix whispered, almost sounding awestruck that someone would choose to be around her. 

Hermione looked sideways at her. 

"I've made my choice. All I'm following is my heart. I don't care how much trouble we get in, because what we're doing is right." 

The corner of Bellatrix's mouth twitched. 

"And when you're healed, we'll go out again and get rid of another."

Bellatrix finally smiled, showing her teeth, her tongue held between them. 

"Sounds like a birthday treat." 

They were just leaning in to share a kiss, just millimetres apart, when the front door opened, and Minerva walked through it. 


	13. The Room of Requirement

Hermione stared at McGonagall.

Bellatrix stared at McGonagall.

McGonagall looked at Bellatrix, then at Hermione.

Ygraine entered the room carrying a tray and grinning.

She stopped when she saw her wife.

“Afternoon, dear.” she said, her smile dropping at the look on Minerva’s face.

Ygraine looked at Hermione and Bellatrix, who were still close from their almost-kiss, Hermione’s hand gently resting on Bellatrix’s injured waist, their heads turned toward their teacher.

She glanced between the three of them over and over, all frozen in place staring at each other, then walked between their stares to place the tray of tea down.

She poured four cups, added milk and sugar to one, and took a seat in an armchair and had a sip.

Minerva finally snapped back to reality.

“ _ What _ is happening here?” she asked, looking to her wife for answers as she shut the door behind her. “Did you know about this?!” she asked Ygraine, pointing at Bellatrix and Hermione, who were still huddled close together, staring at the professor in shock.

Ygraine tilted her head a little. “Did I know they were mad for each other? Yes. I knew when they turned up on our doorstep last week and Hermione all but carried her over the threshold. Did I know they were about to kiss in our house? No.”

Minerva finally sat down in the armchair next to Ygraine’s, staring at the floor and blinking while she thought.

“Oh, for goodness sake.” She finally sighed, dramatically throwing herself against the back of the chair and bringing a hand to her face as Ygraine poured her tea for her.

“You two are going to be the death of me.” She muttered into her hand, then took the cup her wife offered out to her.

Hermione swallowed thickly. 

“Are we in trouble?” she asked meekly.

“Ha!” Minerva laughed sarcastically. “Is there any point?! If I forbade it, you’d still sneak around to see each other, wouldn’t you?”

The pair of embarrassed lovebirds looked at each other, then back at the head of Gryffindor.

“Probably.” Bellatrix admitted.

“Hell, you’re likely still going to go on those little missions together, aren’t you? I expect you’ve already planned your next one.”

Bellatrix and Hermione attempted to look as innocent as possible.

Minerva shook her head and tutted one more time.

“Go on then,” she said, defeated. “Have some tea.”

The two separated from each other, and Bellatrix leaned forward and began preparing two cups.

Minerva rolled her eyes. “Of course you already know how Miss Granger takes her tea.”

Bellatrix paused in stirring two sugars into Hermione’s.

“We, ah, had tea when I was teaching her Occlumency. I merely remembered.”

“I’m sure.”

“What are you implying, Minerva?” Bellatrix asked as she sat back with her tea, passing Hermione hers and wincing a little at the pain in her side.

“I’m not implying anything.”   
“You quite clearly are.” she snapped.

The four of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Minerva avoiding eye contact with anyone, focusing instead on the teapot and the lovely Gryffindor tea cosy Ygraine had knitted her many moons ago. Hermione, Bellatrix and Ygraine shared furtive glances.

“ _ I _ think they look sweet together.” Ygraine finally said, earning her a wide-eyed look from her wife and blushes from the two on the sofa.

“Ygraine said you’d be healed by your birthday. When is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” Hermione questioned as she and ‘Miss L’etarie’ wandered along the halls on their way to the Room of Requirement.

The dark witch raised an eyebrow at her. “You getting me a present?”

Hermione smiled softly. “Well, yes, I’d like to.”

Bellatrix opened the door for Hermione. They’d decided their Occlumency lessons would be held here, where they were less likely to be interrupted. 

“All Hallows Eve,” Bellatrix said, pulling the Glamour off with a few wand movements once the door was shut. “October 30th.”

Hermione giggled a little. “Talk about trick or treat.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “Don’t, I wasn’t due for another week. Druella was ever so displeased with my timing.”

Hermione laughed and strolled further into the room, turning to look at Bellatrix with a smile.

The older woman was leaning back against the closed door, looking up at Hermione through her lashes, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Hermione bit her lip a little. “What?”

Bellatrix tilted her head and blinked innocently. “We’re not here to learn Occlumency today.” she admitted, then pushed off of the door and began stalking toward the younger woman.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Then why are we here?”

Bellatrix sped up a little and pushed Hermione harshly by the shoulders, sending her staggering backward as she scrambled to keep herself upright. The golden girl frowned at her.

“We’re gonna fight.” she said, advancing on Hermione again as the brunette walked backwards.

“Bellatrix-”

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but we have to do this if you want to keep coming with me.” She quickened her steps and pushed Hermione again.

“I won’t fight you when you’re injured!”

“So? You’ll have an advantage!”

“No, you’re hurt!” Hermione said, batting Bellatrix’s arms away as she went to shove her again.

“Hermione, right now I’m not your teacher or your friend. I’m an injured, wandless, low-level Death Eater who’s trying to beat the shit out of you. Now fight back!”

Bellatrix raised a fist and pushed it through the air towards Hermione’s face, only for it to be very quickly caught with Hermione’s hand around her fist.

The younger girl pushed it and Bellatrix took a few steps back to steady herself.

“Good reflexes. Keep going.”

Hermione shook her head and took a breath.

“Could we at least get some boxing gloves or something?” she asked, ducking another punch and side-stepping around Bellatrix to get behind her.

“Some what?” the pure-blood asked, turning on her heel and landing a punch to Hermione’s gut.

Hermione wheezed a little and shoved Bellatrix in the shoulder. “Turn around, the Room heard me.”

Bellatrix turned on the spot again, catching a glimpse of something red on the floor before arms wrapped around her waist and Hermione collided with her back. She felt her feet lifted off the floor for a moment and then Hermione let go, sending her crashing onto the floor, which absorbed her fall like a cushion, then firmed up again.

“We don’t have to actually fight to practice fighting.” Hermione explained. “To practice fighting.” she bent down and picked up two red boxing pads. “Come here, put these on.”

Bellatrix groaned as she pushed herself up from the floor, and walked over to Hermione curiously.

She let Hermione slip the pads onto her hands and tighten them, then watched as the younger girl put on some comically large gloves.

“So, you’re gonna put your hands up and in different places, and I’m gonna punch them.”

They practiced for a little while until Hermione decided she needed a break, and a table bearing glasses of cold, fresh water appeared.

“How did you learn of this  _ boxing _ ?” Bellatrix asked, taking a seat on the little sofa that had appeared next to the table. “And what does it have to do with boxes?”

Hermione laughed as she sat next to her. “Nothing to do with boxes. I don’t know why it’s called that. But I grew up pretty close to my cousin, and he used to box competitively.”

“Did your parents ever get you to do anything like that?”

Hermione nodded. “I used to do gymnastics and dance. Every weekend since I was five. I stopped going once I got to Hogwarts though, there was always too much going on. You?”

Bellatrix shrugged a little. “We learned French very young. I’m practically fluent, but Cissy was always better than me.”

Hermione tilted her head in interest. “Why French?”

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at her. “ _ Toujours Pur _ , Hermione. We’re a French family.”

The younger woman thought for a moment, as if the fact had only just dawned on her.

“We used to go on holiday in France. Mum and Dad have a timeshare by Montpellier.”

It was Bellatrix’s turn to be interested. “You’re joking.”

Hermione looked at her as she drank her water, and shook her head a little.

“Montpellier is where our villa is - well, just outside. Near Port Ariane. It’s a big old thing right by the Mas du Cheval guest house - though of course, the Muggles staying there just saw run down barn.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “I noticed that villa the summer after my first year! Wondered where something so beautiful had popped up from, it looked so lived in and well-loved, I thought it couldn’t possibly have only just been built!”

Bellatrix grinned. “With all the obnoxious chestnut trees out front?” Hermione nodded eagerly.

“Yes! It’s only the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen! Bella, you have no idea how badly I wanted to live there.”

The black-haired witch reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Hermione’s ear, her thoughts filled with fantasies of taking Hermione there, jumping in the pool with her, taking the horses out.

“Maybe we can visit one day.” she said quietly. Visit wasn’t quite the term she had in mind - more like ‘retire nice and early there’. 

Hermione blushed, hoping the same, unknown to Bellatrix. “I’d like that.”

The couch they were on seemed to get a little smaller, pushing them together, and Bellatrix laughed as she looked around the room, then brought her hand to Hermione’s cheek and gently pulled her in.

“C’mere.” she whispered, but she hadn’t needed to ask. Hermione’s lips met hers almost as soon as the word left her mouth.

They kissed softly, slowly, cuddling closer together. One of Hermione’s hands found its way into the curls at the nape of Bellatrix’s neck, and she tangled her fingers in them as Bellatrix’s arms encircled her waist and pulled her onto her lap to straddle her.

“I like it when you call me Bella,” she whispered. “No one ever does that. Not even my sisters. Not if they want to live.” Her hands wandered down to grasp at Hermione’s ass.

“Mm, do I get a free pass, then?”

“Definitely,” she said softly, placing a few kisses along Hermione’s jaw. 

“ _ Bella _ …” she sighed, tilting her head to give the woman access to her neck. “I… I like it when you call me ‘pet’.”

She felt lips grin under her ear, then teeth gently tug at her earlobe. She moaned softly.

Strong hands squeezed at her behind and she rolled her hips on instinct.

“Mmf, Bella, if you don’t stop…”

“Why should I,  _ pet _ ?” Hermione took a sharp breath. “We’re alone. No one’s going to walk in on us.  _ Je pourrais avoir mon chemin avec toi _ .” (I could have my way with you)

Hermione moaned again.

“ _ J’ai tellement envie de toi… _ ” she replied. (I want you so badly)

“ _ Tu peux m’avoir. Dis juste le mot _ .” (You can have me. Just say the word.)

Hermione opened her eyes and looked down at Bellatrix, who was watching her with darkened eyes of her own, ready to pounce should she be granted permission.

“I…” Hermione said, then sighed sadly. “Not here. I want to. But… I’ve never…” she trailed off.

Bellatrix kissed her softly. 

“I’ve never had anyone else touch me,” she admitted. “And I want you, Bellatrix, I do, but-”

“You want it to be special?”

Hermione shook her head.

“I’m sure any time and any place with you would be special,” she reassured the older woman. “I’m just not sure I want to have sex at  _ school _ .” she said, and laughed softly. 

Bellatrix looked up at her.

Never in a million years had she thought the fates would grant her this. Not just someone special, but some _ thing _ special. Whatever was between them transcended lust and desire. They were connected by threads neither of them could see, that much was clear from their dream-sharing.

She reached up and caressed Hermione’s cheek, a soft smile playing at her lips. ‘ _ I don’t deserve you. _ ’ she thought as Hermione leaned down and rested their foreheads together.The girl closed her eyes and Bellatrix just…  _ looked _ at her. Commiting to memory every minute detail, every delicate eyelash, the dimples just barely visible.

For so long, she’d thought herself incapable of finding love, or happiness. And now, she was sure, she had found both in this muggle-born Gryffindor, of all people.

“How about another round?” Hermione said, climbing off of her lap and standing up.

Bellatrix grinned. “All right. But this time,  _ I _ get to hit  _ you _ .”


	14. The Birthday Girl

It was the final Hogsmeade weekend of October, and Hermione’s last chance to find a decent birthday present for Bellatrix.

She had already scoured Hogsmeade’s bookshops and come up empty. She even considered Zonko’s, but looked in the window and decided it was far too crowded.

Ginny, bless her, had tagged along on her search as Harry and Ron had gone straight for Zonko’s without a backward glance, and Luna had gone off to be Neville’s wingwoman - something Hermione was still rather confused about.

“What are we actually looking for, Hermione? I could help if you told me.” The red-head asked as they took a side street Hermione was sure she hadn’t noticed on previous trips.

“I’m  _ trying _ to find a birthday present.”

Ginny was wide-eyed and started counting off their friends on her fingers.

“For who? There’s no birthdays before the next time we can come into Hogsmeade.”

“For B- Vic- ah, Miss L’etarie.” she said in a hushed voice as they approached a small shop nestled amongst houses and Hermione stared into the window display.

Ginny grinned almost lecherously. “Sounds pretty serious.”

“Ginny, that’s it!”

_ “Oh, Hermione, it’s beautiful!” Bellatrix gushed, lifting the jewellery from it’s box. _

Hermione recalled the dream from the night before as clear as day.

And there it was, the pendant from it, the gift she’d gotten Bellatrix, hanging on display in the shop window!

She ignored Ginny fawning over it and made her way into the shop, a bell ringing above her head as the door opened.

Hermione walked right up to the counter and looked at the window, where she could see Ginny admiring the other wares on display, and when she looked back, the clerk was all of a sudden standing across from her.

Hermione was a little taken aback; she hadn’t heard the elderly man approach, and it was only a small shop.

“Good afternoon, how may I be of assistance?” He asked, his voice surprisingly deep and strong for such a frail-looking man.

“The pendant in the window, I’m interested.” she said.

He made for the window, retrieving the item in question with delicate hands. Hermione could see that Ginny was fixated on a lovely pair of earrings.

“A beautiful piece.” he said. “Handmade. Unique from any other.”

He placed it down on a square of red velvet that had apparently appeared on the counter while she wasn’t looking.

It was a beautiful black crystal encased within two silver metal bands and fixed to a silver chain.

Now that it was closer, Hermione could see some strange scratches on it.

As if sensing her budding question, the clerk spoke.

“Engraved with fine Norse runes.”

Hermione nodded in understanding as he pulled a magnifying glass over it, and she leaned in for a closer look.

“Ægishjalmur, protection.” he said, using a fine tool to point them out to her. “Gapaldur, success in combat. Ginfaxi, courage in combat. And Hulinhjalmur, the rune of disguise.”

Hermione swallowed thickly - it was perfect.

“How much?” she asked, hoping price would not be a barrier between her and this most perfect of gifts.

“For you, my dear, ten galleons.”

“That’s far too low for a piece so lovely.” Hermione balked in surprise.

He watched her curiously for a moment.

“Then pay what you think it is worth.”

Hermione eyed the pendant, and shook her head. “If I did that, I’d never afford it.”

He smiled at her. “Ten, then?”

She found herself laughing a little. “If you insist.”

“Gift wrapped?”

“Please.”

He gently folded the velvet around the necklace, then placed it into a sleek black box, slipped the lid on and tied silver ribbon around it in a bow, all with great care and skill.

The man opened up his sales book - displacing an unusually thick layer of dust settled upon it - and scribbled some notes on a new line.

Hermione busied herself with retrieving the ten told coins from her purse.

She paid the man, he bid her a good day and she in return, and she left with the package tucked safely in her bag.Ginny linked arms with her straight away.

“Let’s see it, then.”

“Can’t, sorry.” Hermione said. “It’s already wrapped.”

The youngest Weasley sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll just take a good look when it's dangling between her tits in a lesson.”

Hermione gave her a playful shove as they trudged toward the Three Broomsticks.

“Yeah, well, you can look, But  _ I _ get to touch.” she exaggerated with a raised eyebrow.

Ginny’s mouth dropped open as they entered the pub. “You little minx.” she said.

Hermione shushed her.

“Are you having me on?” Ginny asked as they found a table for four, expecting Harry and Ron to meet them from Zonko’s soon.

Hermione sucked her teeth. “I could be...  _ exaggerating _ .”

Ginny shook her head almost disapprovingly.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten further.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s easier for you and Luna, we have to-”

“What can I get you, ladies?” The young waiter asked as he appeared.

“Two butterbeers, and some ginger in mine, please.”

He nodded and walked away.

“We have to sneak around and be mindful of appearances. You’ve been known to date before, no one will be that shocked to see a poorly hidden love bite - by your ear, by the way.” Ginny brought her hand up to cover it. “But with her being a  _ teacher _ ,” she whispered, “And me being so near to Harry with all the rumours and press-”

Ginny held up a hand to stop Hermione’s rambling. “I get it, it’s difficult to ravish each other without leaving evidence, thanks for the visual.”

Soon enough, Harry and Ron had joined them, with Lavender in tow holding tightly to Ron’s hand. Hermione gave the girl a welcoming smile and pulled up a chair for her beside her.

The blonde took it gratefully, giving Hermione a polite smile back but taking Ron’s hand once he sat opposite Hermione.

Ron, Harry and Ginny became engaged rather quickly in a Quidditch debate, and Hermione saw an opportunity and seized it.

“Lavender, listen, I know me and Ron are rather close, and I have to say I’ve felt a little animosity from you, in regards to our friendship, since the start of the year.” she said. “But I just want to be clear that you have nothing to worry about.”

Lavender listened curiously.

“You see, Ron’s not exactly… my type.”

Lavender narrowed her eyes for a moment before they widened and she said in a whisper, “Oh, of course, you like  _ Harry _ !”

Hermione couldn’t help the bark of laughter.

“No, no, not quite.” she said. “I’m rather more interested in the… fairer sex.”

Lavender stared at her in confusion.

“Women.” Hermione finally said bluntly.

“Oh! Oh, I see!” Lavender nodded in understanding. “Maybe we could set you up with Angelina?” 

Hermione was momentarily taken aback by Lavender’s immediate acceptance, but managed to compose herself before too long had passed to reply.

“Not necessary, I’m sort of... seeing someone.” She had to choose her words carefully. Lavender was, after all, the school gossip.

“Aw, who is it?”

“She’s not a student at Hogwarts.”

Lavender looked like she wanted to ask more, but Ron finally turned his attention to her, and she turned hers away from Hermione.

When they made their way back up to the castle, Hermione could have sworn the street the little shop had been on was suspiciously missing. But she was probably just misremembering where it had been.

Wednesday, October 30th, 1996. To all the school, it was All Hallows Eve. But for Bellatrix, it was her forty-fifth birthday.

She prodded at her face in the mirror.

She definitely didn’t look  _ fifty _ -five any more, that was for sure.

Bellatrix recalled the first time she’d looked in a mirror after escaping Azkaban.

All those deep wrinkles, the bags under her eyes, the gaunt cheeks and deep-set eyes, it had all gone away.

Sure, she still had a few wrinkles. Some crows feet by her eyes from all the laughing and smiling she now did. But the sunken eyes, dark circles, and hollow cheeks were no more.

She smiled at her reflection. She felt beautiful. If only she knew  _ why  _ she was looking younger.

She turned from side to side, inspecting herself and the blood-red dress and matching lipstick she was wearing.

That morning, there had been a knock at her door and a note tacked to it from Hermione, asking her to meet in the Room of Requirement at eight, wearing something nice and bearing an empty stomach.

She smoothed the silk dress and adjusted it on her shoulders, making sure the V-neck stopped at the centre of her chest.

Bellatrix pulled on a black cloak to cover up, hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone on the way to her date.

Her date! She was going on a date! Probably - no, definitely - the first real date of her entire life!

Once she reached the doors to the Room of Requirement, she took a deep breath, thanking whatever Gods may have existed that allowed her to reach this point.

The former Death Eater finally worked up the courage to open the door, and was so taken aback by what greeted her that she had to lean back against the door and take another breath once it was closed.

“Oh,  _ Hermione _ .” she whispered, feeling tears well up and threaten to ruin her makeup.

The room was much smaller than when they were training in it, much cosier, and lit only by a few candles dotted about.

In the middle of the room was a table for two, set up with plates and wine. Past that, Bellatrix could see a cushy sofa and flickering fireplace.

Hermione turned from where she had been inspecting the bottle of elvish wine on ice.

Hermione smiled softly at Bellatrix and strode over to her, taking the older witch’s hands in hers.

The young Gryffindor was wearing a black button up tucked into black trousers, and Bellatrix found one of her hands coming to rest on Hermione’s upper chest.

“You’re crying.” Hermione said. “Is this okay?”

Bellatrix just nodded, looking around the room, completely taken aback by the effort Hermione had gone to.

Hermione tugged on her hand and led her to the table. She pulled out one of the chairs and Bellatrix slipped into it. She watched as Hermione poured them wine, then sat across from her.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, darling,” Bellatrix said as Hermione took her hand on the table.

“Of course I did. You deserve to have someone do nice things for you, after all you’ve been through.”

They spent a few moments looking each other up and down.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Hermione finally muttered. “I can’t believe how good you look in red.”

The dark haired witch saw Hermione’s gaze drift down to her cleavage.

Their dinner, sent up with care from Dobby and Winky, was delicious. The conversation was filled with flirty remarks, lusty innuendos, and decent conversation.

Once they’d finished dessert, they moved over to the small sofa, and once they were seated, Hermione reached out and toyed with a tightly curled black ringlet.

“How have you liked your birthday so far?”

“Best one I’ve ever had. This gift has been delightful.”

Hermione laughed. “Do you think this date has been your gift?” She shook her head and reached for the small box on the table by her side.

Bellatrix shook her head, too. “Hermione, you shouldn’t have.”

“Well tough, because I did.”

She held it out and, when Bellatrix didn’t move, forced the gift into her hands.

Bellatrix huffed adorably and unravelled the ribbon.

When she opened the box, she was greeted by the loveliest piece of jewellery she had ever seen.

“You mustn't spend your money on me like this, Hermione.” she whispered, delicately lifting it from the box.

“Believe me, it wasn’t all that expensive. I’m not even sure the place I bought it from was real.”

Bellatrix was barely listening. 

“Are these… Norse runes?” She asked, holding the stone up in the light to get a better look. “Hermione, this is beautiful, thank you.”

Hermione lifted the necklace from Bellatrix’s hands and, without being prompted, Bellatrix twisted so Hermione could fasten it around her. As she did so, she relayed the names of the runes and their meanings to the woman.

When Bellatrix turned back around, the look Hermione was giving her was bordering on hunger.

“Now come here. I can’t resist those blood-stained lips any longer.”

Hermione held her by the back of the neck and pulled her in, capturing her lips and leaning over her possessively, almost mirroring that day in the teacher’s quarters.

Bellatrix moaned softly into the kiss, and was about to wrap her arms around Hermione when she broke away and hissed in pain.

Hermione pulled backward and off of her. “What happened, did I-” 

She cut herself off when Bellatrix keeled off of the sofa onto her knees, her right hand tensed in a claw shape and hovering over her left forearm, like it was the hardest thing to resist connecting the two.

“Bella…” Hermione muttered, completely at a loss for what to do.

The older witch was grunting and breaking a sweat with her efforts, her hand with a mind of its own.

“Stop me.” She growled, and when Hermione didn’t move from shock, she shouted it. “STOP ME! And  _ don’t _ touch it!”

Hermione jumped into action, rapidly unbuttoning her shirt and slipping onto the floor behind Bellatrix.

She wrapped the shirt around the angry, black Dark Mark that had forced its way through the Glamour on her arm. Then, she pulled both of Bellatrix’s arms with as much strength as she could muster, the older woman’s years of fighting giving her an advantage, and held them behind the Death Eater’s back.

She kept them held there with one hand, and wrapped her other arm around Bellatrix’s waist, keeping her held secure against her.

“You’re okay.” She whispered, resting her head on Bella’s shoulder and starting to rock her gently side to side. “You’re safe. He can’t get you here. You’re safe, Bellatrix, I’ve got you.”

The woman struggled against her, groaning with the effort to touch the Dark Mark and the pain of being called upon. 

After letting out a loud, pained groan, the fight seemed to leave her as quickly as it had come on, and she sagged back against Hermione’s chest.

“You want me to let go?” The Gryffindor whispered, maintaining a firm grip just in case.

Bellatrix nodded ever so slightly, and Hermione released her. 

She’d expected the woman to get up and take a breather - they both had a light sheen of sweat from exertion, Bellatrix more so - but instead she turned in place and rested against Hermione, finding her hand with her own and holding on, grounding herself.

Hermione’s shirt remained wrapped around Bellatrix’s arm.

After an extensive silence, where Hermione had been gently stroking Bellatrix’s arm over and over, the older woman spoke.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered. “I’ve ruined the night.”

“Don’t be silly, you’ve not ruined anything. We’ve had a lovely evening.”

“And it could have been lovelier.” She said bitterly.

Hermione kissed her forehead.

“It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Hermione scoffed. “Please don’t put words in my mouth. I do believe it, because it’s the truth. You didn’t  _ ask _ to be called.”

Bellatrix just buried her head into Hermione’s neck.

“This Sunday, we’ll go out and get rid of another one of his rats,” the young girl promised. “And deal him a blow. We’ll make it someone good.”

Bellatrix just nodded against her. 

Hermione held her tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the gift, just in black and silver: http://tinyurl.com/DDnecklace


	15. The Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explicitly mentions genital mutilation of an outie appendage. tw for that, and tw for very vaguely alluded to r*pe

Severus was grading papers in his office during dinner, minding his own business and picking at food from the plate he’d had an elf bring him, when there was a knock at the door.

“What is it?” He asked, not even looking up.

Bellatrix entered and closed the door behind her, then cast a muffliato.

“I require your assistance, Severus.” She said quietly.

He looked up and sneered at her.

“And why would I help you?”

“Because it will benefit you greatly.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Information. I need a patsy.”

He scoffed. “I won’t be your patsy, Bellatrix.”

“No, no, I want to know where Rosier will be Sunday.”

Severus grit his teeth, thinking for a moment, then sighed.

“And what will i get in return?”

Bellatrix shrugged. “Name your price.”

“Gold?”

“If you like. I’ve plenty of it.”

He considered her proposal for a moment.

“One hundred and fifty galleons every time I give you information.” He tried.

She laughed a little and shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ll have it transferred by tomorrow evening. Now, Rosier, Sunday?”

“Felix Rosier.” Bellatrix whispered. “My first cousin.” she explained as the red terraced house came into view. “He’s here torturing some half-bloods for information, so Snape said.”

“You got Snape in on this?” Hermione asked.

Bellatrix nodded, looking around and spotting an alley that hopefully led behind the house.

“I was starting to run out of other sources. Didn’t really have another choice.”

Hermione nodded in understanding and pulled her knife from her belt. “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

Once they had slipped into the house via the french doors, they could hear muffled screams and groans from upstairs.

Bellatrix kept her wand drawn ahead of her, and both women stayed alert as they climbed the staircase, keeping to the edges at Hermione’s insistence in order to reduce the creaking of used wood.

The pair headed over to the only closed door, and Bellatrix carefully leaned her ear against it, listening intently for a few moments.

She turned to Hermione and made a blooming flower motion with her hands - which Hermione took to mean Rosier - then mouthed ‘further away’.

The younger girl nodded, and Bellatrix took hold of the door handle.

After a few seconds, Bellatrix pushed the door wide open, throwing her knife as soon as she caught sight of Rosier.

It landed squarely in his chest and he staggered back, dropping his wand in surprise.

His two prisoners screamed against their gags even more, tied up and unable to turn around and see what was happening.

Bellatrix leapt over the captured couple, catching Rosier before he fell.

She grabbed him from behind and pushed him down to his knees, keeping him secure with one arm around his neck in a chokehold and the other holding an arm behind his back.

“Fuck you!” He spat. “Fuck you, you fucking traitor!” 

He struggled against her arm, his free one pulling at hers.

Hermione had gotten to work freeing the homeowners from their bindings.

“We’ll let you go, but I have to insist that you forget we were ever here. Don’t call the aurors, don’t tell anyone anything about tonight. Or we’ll finish what Rosier here started. Understand?” she asked, threatening them with her dagger accidentally as she spoke.

They both nodded desperately, and Hermione cut them from their ropes.

“I can’t hold him much longer!” Bellatrix whined, the strength that was keeping her cousin in her hold fading away slowly.

Once the captives were free and had made a run for it, Hermione turned her attention to Felix Rosier. 

He was quite the scrawny little thing, Hermione thought, no bigger or stronger than Neville. She expected that’s why he was Voldemort’s sneakiest member.

She took to one knee in front of him, retrieved her blade, and plunged it into his abdomen.

He screamed in agony, moreso when she twisted it.

Hermione pulled it out and stabbed him a second time a few inches over. She twisted it again, relishing in his cries of anguish, then repeated the motion several times over until blood was pouring from him and his cries turned to scattered mumbles.

“He should pay for what he did to that woman.” Bellatrix suggested, and Hermione couldn’t help the lecherous grin that spread across her cheeks. It seemed that Bellatrix, like Hermione, had also noticed the state of the poor woman’s undergarments.

Reaching down, Hermione took her knife to his crotch and sliced his dick clean off.

At this, he finally succumbed to his injuries and slouched in Bellatrix’s hold, which made it much easier for Hermione to pry open his mouth and jam his own cock into it.

Bellatrix let out a delighted cackle.

“Inspired, pet. Now let’s get out of here.” she said, taking up her wand and transfiguring Rosier’s body into a mere bone, which she tucked down the front of her corset.

Hermione regarded the move with interest, 

“Old Death Eater trick.”

Hermione nodded and refocused. “Give me a minute, I’ve got to wipe their memories.”

Once they got back downstairs, they found the couple sitting at their kitchen table, drinking tea with wands clutched in their hands.

They raised them apprehensively at Hermione, but especially toward Bellatrix, as they entered, and lowered them when both women held their hands up a little.

“You do the talking, pet.” Bellatrix whispered, and moved towards the kettle to pour her own cup of tea. The husband kept his wand vaguely pointed towards her.

Hermione slowly took a seat at their table across from them, and placed her wand in the middle. 

“I’m sorry for what you two have been through tonight. Especially you, Mrs Dixon.” she spoke with a calm, gentle voice. “Have you called any Aurors?”

The woman shook her head. 

“I appreciate that. I apologise for my tone when I ordered you not to.”

The woman gulped and narrowed her eyes at her. 

“Aren’t… aren’t you, uh, that girl?”

Hermione tilted her head. 

“Harry Potter’s friend? I’ve seen your photo in the Prophet.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes.”

The husband spoke, this time. 

“What are you doing? What are you doing  _ with her _ ?”

Bellatrix scoffed from behind him and he jumped and turned, realising he’d taken his eye off of her. She was leaning against their counter, drinking their tea from one of their mugs, looking to all the world as though she might live there.

“Miss Black has sort of… changed her ways.” Hermione explained. “She and I are working to eliminate some of You-Know-Who’s inner circle.”

“But you musn’t be more than sixteen!” Mrs Dixon said, horrified that this teenage girl was going around committing what was still murder.

Hermione shrugged.

“It feels like a calling to me. Like something I should always have been doing.”

They were all quiet for a few moments. 

“Now, I’m sorry, but I  _ am _ going to have to wipe your minds of this evening. We’ve already put the room back together, cleaned up any evidence. It’s best if you never remember tonight.”

The wife nodded eagerly. “Please, I would be grateful.”

As they entered through the Hogwarts gate, Hermione looked down at her bloodstained hands. “I’d best clean myself up when we get back in.” she said.

Bellatrix reached out and took Hermione’s hand.

“I think you look sexy. White school shirt all covered in blood. It’s a good look on you.”

Hermione playfully struf a pose, drawing a cackle of laughter from the older woman for the second time that night.

Bellatrix watched Hermione as they walked, the softest of smiles on her face.

“What?” Hermione finally asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I just think you’re incredible.” she said, shaking her head. “I was already thinking of chopping his dick off, it was like you read my mind. Then you shoved it in his gob - oh, a woman after my own heart.”

Hermione chuckled. “I just thought it’d be funny, mostly. Plus he deserved it. Poor Mrs Dixon.”

Bellatrix nodded, and they were quiet for a few minutes, starting to draw nearer to the castle doors.

“I don’t think I could keep doing this without you, Hermione.” The older woman admitted. “Sure, I had it all planned out at one point. But you… You’re an unexpected variable. A very welcome one, at that.”

The bushes lining the path rustled, and Hermione shivered from a cold breeze. She pulled the invisibility cloak from her undetectably-extended bag and threw it over them both as they entered the school.

“You’re a welcome variable, too.” Hermione whispered.

Their hands remained linked up until the moment they had to part ways outside Bellatrix’s chambers. They shared a slow kiss underneath the cloak, lingering a little too long, before Bellatrix forced herself to pull back and end it, pressing her finger to Hermione’s lips to quell her disapproval at the parting.

The next morning, when Hermione came down into the common room ready for breakfast, she was greeted by a very sour-looking Professor McGonagall.

“The Headmaster requires your presence.” she said as Hermione approached her. The woman turned on her heel and walked from the room, leaving Hermione to cast a furtive look toward Harry and Ron before following the Transfiguration teacher.

She caught up to her easily.

“Professor, why does Dumbledore want to see me?”

McGonagall pursed her lips, as usual when confronted with an uncomfortable question.

“It seems your…  _ extra-curricular _ activities have not gone unnoticed.” she said.

The colour drained from Hermione’s face and she fell behind a step or two.

“Shit.” she whispered.

“Indeed.”

After a brisk walk, they reached the gargoyles outside Dumbledore’s office.

“Toffee eclairs.” The teacher declared, causing the gargoyles to leap aside and reveal the hidden staircase.

Hermione made for the staircase, but a hand on her arm had her pausing for a moment.

“For what it’s worth, Miss Granger. I do not object to the work that has been done. Merely the means by which it was achieved.”

She gave Hermione a look that told her not to repeat as much, and the young Gyrffindor nodded in understanding. 

Hermione turned and ascended the stairs.

Upon entering the office, she found not only Dumbledore waiting for her - poised and powerful in the chair at his desk, withered though he may be - but also a forlorn, upset Hagrid by his side and a certain black-haired woman in the chair across from him.

“You wished to see me, sir?” she asked innocently.

Dumbledore gestured at the empty seat beside Bellatrix, who remained under her guise as Miss L’etarie.

“Sit.”

Hermione obeyed, and chanced a look at the woman next to her. To her own annoyance, her first thought was that Bellatrix was so attractive with  _ either _ face.

She was sitting straight-backed with her head held high, an air of superiority and grace about her. Hermione did her best to copy it, feigning calm despite her fears of being expelled.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here this morning, Miss Granger?”

“Do enlighten me, Headmaster.” she said breezily. It seemed to bother him.

“Hagrid came to see me, late last night, in distress and disarray. He says he witnessed the two of you sneaking back into the castle as he was patrolling the grounds.”

He stared between them for a short while. 

Hermione eyed his desk, while Bellatrix maintained eye contact.

“He said that you, Miss Granger,” she looked up, “were covered in blood. And that you were delightedly chatting about… what was it, Hagrid? Chopping off a  _ dick _ and shoving it in the owner’s  _ mouth _ ?”

Hermione winced at Dumbledore’s use of that particular name for the appendage. The colour returned to her face in an embarrassed flush.

“Sir-” Hermione started.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Sir?”

“Whose  _ dick _ was it? Who was your victim, Miss Granger? If what Hagrid relayed to me is correct, it sounds as though you were the active participant in this attack.”

Hermione didn’t respond, just focused on her breathing, on maintaining her composure.

“Of course, you don’t actually have to tell me. You see, Severus also came to me, early this very morning, and informed be that Felix Rosier had mysteriously never returned from his assignment last night. He is your cousin, is he not, Bellatrix?”

Hagrid stiffened a little.

“Did you miss it?” He asked, turning his attention to the raven-haired witch. “The killing, the torturing? To go back to it so quickly.” He shook his head in pity.

Bellatrix scoffed. “You should be glad.” She flicked her wand and cast away her false features, now much more adept at the Glamour charm. Hagrid visibly recoiled. “I was doing more to bring down the Dark Lord than you are. You’re only trying to put a stop to this because you want the glory of defeating him, just like with Grindelvald.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Just because you cannot see it does not mean it is not happening, Bellatrix. I have my own plans in place.”

“You’re no better than Him.” she retorted quickly. “At heart, you serve only yourself. Wars cannot be won with just scheming and planning, Albus. Actions must be taken, pieces removed from the board, before one may reach the endgame. We take out his most loyal followers, we weaken him.”

Dumbledore raised his voice.

“My plans will weaken him!”

Bellatrix did too.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about your little  _ treasure hunt _ .” she sneered. “Not as well-kept a secret as you thought. Hunting His hor-”

“SILENCE.” the old man boomed, slamming his good hand onto the desk. His eyes showed a fury Hermione had never bore witness to.

Bellatrix snapped her mouth shut.

“Regardless of either of our efforts, I will not allow you to corrupt my students any longer.” He gestured at Hermione. “With you gone, Miss Granger will presumably go back to her normal self. You cannot be trusted, even in a castle full of wizards and witches just as skilled as you - if not more. So you will be placed under the watchful  _ eye _ of Alastor Moody.”

Bellatrix pressed her lips together and huffed in annoyance.

“You will be removed from the castle by portkey,” he continued, pulling a pair of shackles from a drawer in his desk. “Hagrid, you’re stronger than I. If you would?”

The half-giant seemed hesitant, but he took them from the old man and stepped towards Bellatrix.

As the woman reached for her wand, Dumbledore cast a non-verbal expelliarmus, catching it deftly, now holding both his own and hers.

Hermione jumped up from her chair, having been all but forgotten, and cast an expelliarmus of her own on the Headmaster.

She caught both wands in her free hand and stepped between Hagrid and Bellatrix.

“Don’t you touch her,” she warned, pointing all three at Hagrid, who stepped backward again.

“Hermione,” he pleaded sadly. “Can’t you see that this isn’t you?” he asked.

She glanced at Dumbledore, who seemed to be staring at his own wand hand in shock.

“Hagrid,” Hermione scoffed. “I’ve never felt  _ more _ like me.”

A hand on her hip made her turn and look down.

Bellatrix shook her head at her. “Keep this up and you’ll get arrested,” she said quietly. 

“I’ll go in peace.” she said, a little louder. “My only request is this.”

She looked directly at Dumbledore. “Hermione earned your wand in combat. She keeps it.”

Dumbledore practically laughed. “Why would I-”

“Because right now, in this room, she and I are the ones in control. We have all three wands between us.”

Silent fury raged behind Dumbledore’s eyes, and a knowing glint sparkled in Bellatrix’s.

“Hermione leaves this room, right now, with both yours and her own, and I will go without a fight.”

As an olive branch, Hermione took Bellatrix’s wand from the three in hand and placed it on the Headmaster’s desk.

He regarded the move with caution. The room was silent for almost a whole minute before he relented, shoulders slumping a little.

“Fine. Hermione, leave, before I change my mind.”

Hermione gulped and turned, giving Bellatrix a brief kiss.

“Early night, I’ll be thinking of you.” she whispered under her breath, then kissed her again and ran for the door.


	16. The Escape Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny, eensy weensy bit of smut in this one for you, as a treat. Whacked this out in a matter of hours today, but I'm pleased with it. Enjoy! Please leave a comment if you like it, they spur me on massively.

The door closed itself behind her and she kept running, almost tripping down the stairs. She ran straight past McGonagall, who called for her, but Hermione paid her no mind.

She ran straight out the doors of the castle, unconcerned that it was a Monday morning and that she had classes to attend, and ran for the only place she could think of.

The Black Lake. 

She threw herself down at it’s shore, pebbles and stones digging into her knees, but she didn’t care.

Bellatrix had probably already been removed from the castle, sent Merlin-knows-where to be Moody’s prisoner. And Hermione was sat here, Dumbledore’s wand in one hand and her own in the other, in the cold November morning air by the water, avoiding her classes.

But it wasn’t Dumbledore’s wand any more, was it?

What had Bellatrix said? Hermione had won it in combat. That meant it was hers now. It answered to her.

She compared their weights and the way they felt in her hands, finding that she favoured Dumbledore’s over her own.

She had to admit, it was a beautiful wand. It almost looked as though it had been plucked from a tree branch, if it weren’t for the intricate carvings.

The feeling of power it seemed to exude was almost overwhelming - addictive, even. It’s magic hummed in her grasp, and she pointed it at a boulder poking out of the water.

“ _ Bombarda _ !”

She shielded her face as it exploded with such force that it was like she’d cast  _ Expulso _ instead, the next step up from  _ Bombarda _ . But there was no need, she’d somehow cast a non-verbal  _ Protego _ as she’d thrown up her arm.

Pebbles rained down on her, bouncing off the bubble of protection and pinging back into the water. Once the debris settled, she watched the water ripple with the annoyance of it’s aquatic inhabitants.

Yes, this would do nicely.

Hermione looked up at the sound of gravel crunching behind her to see Ginny coming towards her.

“Hey.” the young Weasley said softly, dropping down next to Hermione with crossed legs. “McGonagall pulled me out of Potions, she said you needed a friend. What’s going on?”

Hermione felt tears of gratitude well up in her eyes.

“Is that Dumbledore’s wand?” Ginny asked, surprised.

Hermione twisted it in her grip. “I don’t think so. Not any more. I think it might be mine.”

Ginny stared at her. “Hermione. Talk to me. Tell me the truth, tell me what’s been happening with you.” she pleaded.

Hermione looked the younger girl in the eyes and, seeing genuine concern, she sighed deeply.

“Where to start?”

“At the beginning, preferably.”

Over the course of the next half an hour, Hermione relayed all of the events of her school year so far to Ginny and, when she was done, they sat in silence as the redhead took it all in.

“So you’ve… You’ve killed people?”

Hermione nodded.

“Just two so far.”

“So far? You’re planning to keep going?”

“Once I can find her and get her away from Moody, yes. Ginny… killing the Death Eaters is the right thing to do. It’s our best way of weakening Tom Riddle right now. We’ve already taken out five of his close circle. Rosier was his best spy, second only to Snape.”

Ginny fiddled with a large stone she’d picked up. 

“So what are you going to do?”

Until that moment, Hermione hadn’t actually thought about it, but now, she knew what had to be done.

“I’m leaving.”

“Hermione, no-”

“I have to. I have to leave, I have to find Bellatrix, and we’ll do what we have to do to finish this budding war.”

“Where do you expect to go?”

Hermione scoffed. “Anywhere but here. Ginny… Dumbledore can’t be trusted. I know it in my heart. Something about him… it doesn’t sit right, Ginny.”

Ginny pursed her lips and sighed, looking out over the dark waters of the lake.

“I’ll cover for you, if it comes to it. McGonagall probably will, too. How will you get out? I’m guessing Dumbledore will have tightened security on the main gate.”

Hermione studied the wand in her hand again, thinking back to the time Harry snuck out to Hogsmeade. 

“There’s a passage that leads to Honeydukes cellar. I’ll take it tonight. Apparate from Hogsmeade. Go somewhere safe.”

Hermione nodded to herself as she stared off into the distance, mentally planning her escape and where to go.

Ginny watched her, reconciling the Hermione she’d known for so long with the Darker Hermione she’d just been told about.

“Come on. Let’s go back, I’m freezing my fucking arse off here.” Ginny finally said, pushing herself to stand up.

Hermione remained quiet in her lessons, forcing professors to call on her for the correct answers after exhausting their other options. In her last lesson, McGonagall, to Hermione’s relief, was the only teacher to let her sulk and work in quiet.

As Hermione began to pack her things away, Minerva approached and simply lay her hand on the Gryffindor’s shoulder, squeezed it a little, then continued on her way. Until that point, Hermione had held herself together all day, but now she felt her lip quivering at the idea that she was planning on running away from Hogwarts, a place she’d always felt safe, in search of a woman she may never find.

She managed to keep her tears at bay until she’d made it out into a quiet corner of the courtyard, where she angrily wiped them away, breathing in the cool afternoon air.

She mentally went through her plan once more, steeled herself, and made her way back up to the dormitory, where she hastily packed the essentials into her Extended bag.

She changed into her muggle clothes before digging her gifted dagger out from under her mattress and tucked it into the belt loops at the back of her waist. She slipped the bag over her head, the strap falling across her body, and grabbed a cosy-looking jumper to put on that would cover both it and the dagger. Thankfully, Bellatrix had not long ago gifted her a dragonhide sheath for the knife, meaning she didn’t have to worry about it nicking her belt loops and falling out.

Hermione picked up Dumbledore’s wand - thinking of how she must find something else to call it, seeing as it was no longer his - and thought of slipping it into the Extended bag, worried it might somehow get damaged. She couldn’t just keep it out like she did her own, then everyone would know she’d disarmed one of the greatest wizards alive…

She spotted a couple of old hair ties on her bedside cabinet, and an idea struck her.

Rolling up the sleeve on her wand arm, she pulled the ties onto her wrist and pushed them as far up her arm as they would comfortably go, then slotted the wand into them. It was centimetre or so too long for the position, but she’d just have to keep her sleeves over her hands and make out that she was cold.

She adjusted the ties a little for comfort, making sure the wand wasn’t poking off the sides of her arm, then pulled her sleeve back down.

The strong magic of the wand felt strange against her forearm. She wondered if that was how it felt to have a Dark Mark.

Feeling prepared, she made her bed out of habit, and exited the dorms.

As she looked around the bustling common room, she decided her best bet at slipping away unnoticed was to get involved with something going on.

She spotted Neville and Ginny playing exploding snap, but decided that spending time with Ginny before she left would be too painful, having felt like they’d already said their goodbyes with their chat by the lake.

She looked over at Harry, Lavender and Ron, the latter of whom avoided her gaze.

It suddenly struck her that, other than Ginny, no one really spoke to her any more.

Had she really closed herself off so much and so quickly that Ginny was her only friend? And what did she have in common with Ginny, anyway? They were both gay? They both knew Ron?

Ginny was lovely, and currently Hermione’s closest friend, but they didn’t have a lot to match up with.

Ron was so obsessed with getting his dick wet that he favoured a three-week old relationship over a five-year friendship (and countless passable essays, courtesy of Hermione).

And Harry… Well, Harry was lost to his own fight, wasn’t he? That was something Hermione could relate to. He was so focused on being the Chosen One, of every part of his life, every event, being something to do with Voldemort or being the Boy Who Lived, that he had become obsessed with spying on Draco, leaving little regard for the friendships or relationships in his life.

She had briefly been friends with Angelina in fourth year, though mostly because Harry and Ron refused to talk to each other for half of the first term, and even then Hermione couldn’t relate to her.

But Bellatrix.

Hermione could relate to Bellatrix. The Brightest Witch of her age. One of a small list of students to get all Os in their NEWTs, and of a smaller list to get an O+ at all. 

And here Hermione was, throwing her education away just to get the woman she… loved? back in her arms. Oh, if her younger self could see her now.

Bugger it, she decided. She’d just go now.

She shared a look with Ginny as she walked from the common room, and the redhead gave her a small supportive smile. Hermione thought she could see a trace of pity in it.

It didn’t take long to reach the kitchens, unhindered by students or faculty who were all resting or working in the lead up to dinner.

She tickled the pear in the portrait and smirked with concealed laughter when it giggled and turned into a doorknob, which she turned and pushed.

Hermione was quickly surrounded by excitable house elves eager to palm food off on her, but she only had attention for one.

“Dobby?”

Once she was kitted out with food to last her a couple of days, Hermione started creeping up to one of the third floor corridors, where she knew a statue of one-eyed Gunhilda of Gorsemoor concealed a hidden passage.

She took every shortcut she knew of on her way, all found during years of adventuring with the boys she had once called her closest friends, and thankfully didn’t encounter another soul.

When she pushed the statue aside, she was relieved to see the passageway had not been filled in during Umbridge’s purge the year before. She stepped into it and pulled the witch back across the entrance.

She cast  _ Lumos _ with her wand and started the journey into Hogsmeade, careful to watch her step as she went.

Once she reached the trapdoor, she pushed it up very slightly, just enough to peek into the stock room.

She found no one, and let the trapdoor close again.

She could have apparated sooner, but she’d wanted to be sure she was well past the Hogwarts wards.

Hermione closed her eyes, focused on her destination, and turned on the spot.

After apparating to Diagon Alley and securing a room at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione let out a deep sigh and splayed out on the bed, jumper and bag discarded on the floor. It would do for the night, and after contacting Bellatrix, she could go somewhere else in the morning.

She looked at the clock sitting on the bedside table, noting that it was only six in the evening. She’d told Bellatrix to get an early night, and hoped that the woman was already asleep, otherwise her plan would fail tremendously.

Hermione got up and drew the curtains closed, blocking out the streetlamps and dimming the room significantly to her single lamp.

She returned to the bed, where she removed the second wand from her arm, huffing in annoyance at the red imprint it had left on her arm after so long held to it. Maybe she could pop into the Alley and buy a wand holster or two.

Wait - Ollivander! He would know… Ah. He’d been kidnapped. That wouldn’t help.

The Gryffindor closed her eyes, trying to relax as she focused on Bellatrix, on thoughts of her eyes, which held so many secrets. Her lips, so inviting. Her bosom, heaving after a good fight, the necklace Hermione had gotten her raising up and down with each breath.

She thought back to when Bellatrix had leaned over her in her chambers.

To when she’d straddled the older woman in the Room of Requirement.

To what she’d  _ like _ to do with Bellatrix, if she only could.

Her hand slipped under her waistband, and she moaned.

_ “Bellatrix,” Hermione sighed. “I hope you can hear me. I miss you.” she said softly, breathing laboured. _

_ “I need to know where they’re keeping you. I need to find you. I’ve- mm, fuck… I’ve left school, snuck out. Bella…” she groaned. “I’ll sleep ah-after this. Then it’s-it’s- oh! Your turn! It should - mmf - work both ways - ah! - right? Just- oh, fuck, yes! He’ll be listening, I’m sure, fuck! But just, gods, tell me without - yes, yes, Bella! Without telling me… Fuck. Fuck!” _

Bellatrix awoke with a start at the top of Hermione’s climax, a grin spreading across her face. She chuckled. “Oh, my clever pet.” she muttered, rolling onto her back in the four-poster bed.

She drew the curtains around it, knowing full well they were charmed to keep peeping toms out - though she couldn’t be sure it would still work on Moody’s magical eye.

The Dark witch undid her corset and slipped out of her skirt while she passed the time waiting until she thought Hermione might be asleep, at which point she eagerly pushed her hand into her underwear.

She allowed herself, for the first time, to think of Hermione every which way she’d like to take her.

Lovingly, in a big cosy bed.

Passionately, on her desk.

Frantically, in a dark alley after a successful kill.

_ “Pet… Merlin, this has never felt so good.” Bellatrix sighed. “I miss you too. Sneaking out for me, hmm? That’s a bad girl. Oh, gods, I wish this was your touch… I’m safe, I - ah! Promise!” she groaned loudly, not caring if Mad-Eye heard her or could see her. “I’m-I’m home. With, fuck. With R-A-B. Yes, yes, fuck, Hermione…” _

Hermione awoke slowly, groaning in her sleep, annoyed that she had to leave such a delightful dream. Now that she’d caught a glimpse of Bellatrix in her most vulnerable state, she craved nothing more than to be there, causing those sounds herself.

She had to focus, though, and shook her head to clear it of such lewd thoughts.

Bellatrix said she was at home. With RAB. Whatever that meant. 

Hermione frowned. There’s no way Dumbledore would make her a prisoner at the Lestrange estate, surely? Forcing her to stay in the same house as her husband’s rotting corpse? And he definitely wouldn’t inflict that on Moody if they were to be there for a while, that would just be cruel, no matter how tough Moody was.

No, it had to be somewhere else. Home. Perhaps somewhere Bellatrix had spent a lot of time growing up.

The image of the woman spread out on the bed re-entered her mind, and Hermione went to shake it off again before she stopped herself, realising the bed had been covered with silver and emerald green sheets. She brought the image up in her mind again, looking at the room surrounding Bellatrix for any other hints.

She got plenty. The room was absolutely covered in Slytherin’s colours. She’d seen it before, she was sure.

RAB… She grinned in realisation. Regulus Arcturus Black. An avid Slytherin alumni, whose bedroom was decked in green and silver. His bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, headquarters of the Order, and the most secure place to keep a high-ranking prisoner.

Shame she had practically grown up there and knew all it’s secrets.


	17. The First Time

Two days had passed since Hermione had run away from Hogwarts, and she was honestly surprised the Aurors or the Order hadn’t found her yet.

The morning after leaving, she’d apparated to her parents house to get some of her things - more specifically, her muggle purse with her bank card in, in which she kep birthday and Christmas money from muggle relatives that had accumulated over the years.

She’d moved on, then, to a Premier Inn just a street or two away from Grimmauld Place in Islington.

Hermione and Bellatrix had quickly developed a system: each night, Bellatrix would sleep at six, so Hermione could speak to her. Then, Hermione would sleep at nine, so she could be spoken to.

It certainly made for a relaxing bedtime routine.

_ CRACK _ .

“Dinner is served, Mistress.”

_ CRACK _ .

Bellatrix signed and pushed herself from the desk in the drawing room.

Just once, she wanted Kreacher to  _ walk  _ into a room instead of giving her a heart attack.

She reached for her wand out of habit, intending to  _ Tergeo _ the parchment she’d just spilled ink onto, and dropped her hand in annoyance when she remembered it wasn’t there.

No matter. She’d have it back soon enough.

Once she was downstairs and seated at the long table in the kitchen, she spent a few moments eyeing Moody up as he ate.

“I can see you watching me.” He grumbled around a bite of the cheap steak.

Bellatrix picked up her table knife and held it towards him.

“Why do you get a proper one?” she asked. “I’ll need more than this to cut through meat so overdone.”

“You’ll eat it with that and be grateful.”

She shrugged and, instead of attempting to cut the meat, picked the steak up with her bare hand and began to gnaw on it like an animal.

Moody just shook his head.

For added effect, Bellatrix turned in her seat and put her bare feet up on the table, kicking back as she chewed on the steak.

Moody sighed. “If I get you a knife, will you behave?”

Bellatrix shrugged. “Try it and find out. I just want to eat my dinner.”

“Kreacher.”  _ CRACK _ . “Get her a steak knife. And a tea towel to wipe her hands on.”

“Yes, Mister Moody.”

“Wipe the table while you’re at it.”

“Yes, Mister Moody.”

“Kreacher,” Bellatrix said, putting her feet down. “Who do you answer to? Who is your Master?”

He bowed deeply to her as he handed her the knife.

“Kreacher wishes he could answer to Mistress Black, but Kreacher is bound to Master Potter and those he calls friends.”

“Who owns this house, Kreacher?”

The elf remained bowed to her, an honour he had never bestowed on members of the Order.

“Master Sirius left it to Master Harry whilst you were still a Lestrange.”

“What am I now?”

“You are a Black, Mistress, since your husband passed. Mistresses Malfoy and Tonks remain wed. You are the last, and eldest, true Black.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Bellatrix said almost sweetly.

“Anything for Mistress Black.”

_ CRACK _ .

Moody shook his head. “Means nothing. House is Harry’s by last will and testament.”

Bellatrix smirked and stood, steak knife in hand.

“You haven’t met my Aunt, have you?”

The Dark witch jumped up and quickly dodged a  _ Stupefy _ sent her way by throwing herself into a shelf with a mad cackle.

Before Moody could clamber out of his seat and follow with his bum leg, she had made it into the hallway and slammed the kitchen door behind her.

The bang caused the curtains on Walburga’s portrait to yank themselves open, and the house was suddenly filled with her angry screams of bigotry.

But Bellatrix had reached the portrait and held out her hand. She brought the steak knife across her palm with a quick slash and pressed it against Walburga’s face, muffling her shouts as Bellatrix quickly said:

“I, Bellatrix Black, eldest and last remaining Black of age, declare ownership of this Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and it’s properties. Toujurs Pur!”

Moody had caught up with her now (his efforts slowed by tripping over the carpet thanks to Kreacher) but he wasn’t quick enough, and as he reached to pull her hand from the portrait, the front door blew open with a great gust of wind.

“I banish the Order of the Phoenix from this home!”

The wind swept Moody up and dragged him from the house, carpet bunching under his heels as he fought to stay inside.

He tried to grip onto the doorframe, but he yelped and yanked his hands away, the wood burning him at the touch.

He was unceremoniously tossed down the steps and onto the pavement, along with a few random objects the house’s former occupants must have left behind.

Alastor landed with a groan, rolling onto his side and finding himself looking at a pair of feet.

He looked up to see Hermione looking down at him.

“Oh, good. She’s taken the rubbish out.”

Hermione smiled and stepped around him to make her way up the steps.

“You’ll pay for this, Lestrange!” He grunted.

“It’s  _ Black _ , you know. The clue was in me kicking you out of  _ my  _ house.” she said, an arm wrapping around Hermione’s waist as they stood on the doorstep.

She pulled the younger girl in as she closed the door, shutting Moody and the rest of the Order out with a  _ thud _ of finality.

Once they were alone, she pushed Hermione up against the hallway wall and came nose-to-nose with her.

“I’ve missed you, pet.” she admitted quietly, eyes flicking across Hermione’s face as if she’d forgotten what she looked like.

Hermione’s arms immediately wrapped around the slightly smaller woman’s waist, pulling her body closer until they were pressed together.

“I’ve missed you too…  _ Lady Black _ .” Hermione whispered into her ear. She practically felt the shiver run down Bellatrix’s spine.

She placed an open-mouthed kiss to Bellatrix’s neck, just below her ear, letting her tongue flick the skin. A moan erupted from Bellatrix’s throat that sounded almost like a purr.

She turned her head and pulled Hermione into an eager kiss, one hand bunching in the Gryffindor’s hair and holding her in place, slipping her tongue past Hermione’s lips and receiving a pleased sigh in response.

After kissing for a few moments, Hermione finally managed to pull herself away and mutter, “Take me upstairs.”

Bellatrix watched her for a moment.

“Please.” 

She didn’t have to be asked again.

Bellatrix took Hermione’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs and up them until she found the room she’d been sleeping in, decked out in full Slytherin decor.

When she reached the door she turned to Hermione, seeking something out in her eyes before they entered, and was pulled into another kiss after a few moments.

She walked backwards, Hermione following, attached at the lips, until the back of her legs bumped the edge of the bed and she turned and pushed Hermione onto it, going down with her.

Hermione shuffled up the bed a little until she was resting against the cushions, and Bellatrix straddled her lap.

They parted from the kiss, both women breathing heavily, and Bellatrix sat up a little.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m always sure, with you.”

Bellatrix smiled. “You sappy git.” she said, beginning to unlace her corset.

Hermione watched her hands work at the strings and once it was undone, brought her own up to pull it off and toss it aside.

She helped Bellatrix pull the black cotton undershirt up over her head and momentarily stared at her chest, before looking up at her with a deep blush.

“You can look, pet.” Bellatrix smiled reassuringly. “You can even touch…” she gently took Hermione’s hands in her own as the younger woman’s gaze went back to her breasts, and slowly guided them towards her until Hermione had cupped one in each hand.

She sighed softly at the contact.

Hermione glanced up at her and back again, then experimentally began to squeeze and fondle them. 

Bellatrix moaned softly when Hermione’s thumbs brushed over her nipples, sensitive from two days of touching herself just to speak to the woman now underneath her.

The raven-haired witch let go and started to undo the ties holding her skirt on, shimmying it down her hips and lifting up a little to pull it off, and was left only in her lacy black underwear.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Hermione whispered, her hands skimming down Bellatrix’s sides and behind, palming at her arse and causing an involuntary thrust of her hips. “How am I so lucky? What did I do to deserve fate tying us together?” she asked, more to herself than to Bellatrix.

“I ask myself those questions whenever I see you.” Bellatrix admitted.

Hermione suddenly started to pull off her top, throwing it off the side of the bed somewhere and unclasping her bra, tossing it aside just as easily.

“Hey, there’s no rush.” Bellatrix joked, appreciating the view all the same.

“I want to be naked with you.” the brunette said, unbuttoning her jeans.

Bellatrix helped her to shuck them off, pulling off the shoes Hermione had forgotten she was wearing in the process.

She soon straddled her again, and Hermione sat up, pressing their bare chests together as they kissed eagerly once more.

“Can I touch you?” Hermione whispered against Bellatrix’s lips, one arm wrapped around the witch’s waist and the other lingering at the waistband of her underwear.

“I think you know the answer.” 

-

“Fucking hell,” Hermione chuckled, as Bellatrix crawled back up her body and cuddled in by her side, resting her head on Hermione’s chest and looking at her adoringly. “That was incredible. You’re amazing.”

Bellatrix licked her lips. “You  _ taste _ amazing,” she grinned, causing the other to blush. “And you’re not so bad yourself either.”

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed happily, wrapping her arm around Bellatrix and closing her eyes.

“Can we just stay here forever? Just you and me, in this house, away from the Order, from the Death Eaters, from  _ Him _ and Dumbledore?”

Bellatrix pushed some hair out of her face. “If only. This is what’s called post-coital bliss.” Hermione laughed. “Unfortunately, we still have work to do.”

“Where do we start, now?”

“I’m going to tell you a story.”

“A story?” she laughed again. “Does sex usually come with story time?”

Bellatrix chuckled too.

“It’s called the Tale of the Three Brothers.”


End file.
